


Strength

by Aviantei



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Exactly What It Says on the Tin, F/M, Post-Movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-08-23 19:56:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 44,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20207209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aviantei/pseuds/Aviantei
Summary: After being pulled underground, Pitch manages to escape the Nightmares that pursue him. But the safe haven he finds will nowhere be the place he expects. And it all starts with the offer of one human woman who defies any form of logic placed on her. [PitchxOC]





	1. Prologue: Fear

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was originally posted on fanfiction.net between July 23, 2013 and September 15, 2018, with a bonus chapter on March 9, 2019. I distinctly remember writing the opening parts in the December of 2012 - not too long after I watched the movie, if we're being honest. Pitch is easily my favorite character, and I wanted to poke around a bit in post-canon, and thus here we are. As one of my completed fics, I really do enjoy the result.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

**Strength**

By: Aviantei

Prologue: Fear

* * *

So this was fear.

He thought he had understood. Fear was his business after all. It was what he did, what he caused, what he had desired. And he knew what it was like when other people were afraid. That was a truly beautiful thing that was unlike any other. It was so powerful, and it filled him with strength. Because that was what he believed fear to be.

But not this.

This was excruciating, nothing he had ever experienced—_perhaps something like it long ago, in some far away memory, but he was certain never_—even though he had existed for centuries. This was palms sweating even though winter was still mixed into the oncoming spring air. This was heart pounding faster than he knew was possible. This was breath coming out in ragged bursts, for reasons that had nothing to do with how he was exerting himself. This was a panic, a desperation to escape from the Nightmares that were his own creation, and yet they were preying on _him_.

This was fear and it wasn't _right_.

He wasn't certain how long he had been running, nor if the corrupted horses were even following him anymore. There was a small hope for him [oh, how that infernal rabbit would gloat about that] that maybe, just maybe, at least one of the horses would have found someone else's fear to pray on _(it's empty at best, what else is there to be afraid of when the Guardians are there to protect him and no one even—)_ abandoning their chase for him in favor of someone else.

The woods were almost gone by now, surely that mean he had been running away for quite some time. Did that even matter, though? The Nightmares didn’t tire easily, even in their current state. Being immortal, he shouldn't be tired either, but there was something quite draining about fear that he didn't know existed.

_(How much more are you going to realize you don't know about your own domain?)_

What should have been a humbling moment for the Nightmare King only served to anger him. The feeling disappeared quickly, though; the fear was persistent.

Where were the Nightmares? Surely they were close, but he couldn't sense them. It wasn't like he could call them either. They had turned on him. It was as simple as that. So he was going to run, because everything right now was so _uncertain_.

Not even an instant after he made his decision, he was stopped. For a second, he thought the Guardians had found him [this same collision like the one with North only a few hours ago], because he had run into another person. The Nightmare King remained standing, even with the other fell to the ground. He started to think how to counter an attack and—

There was a soft nicker, causing him to actually fall over. The fear was back, worse because the Nightmares actually had found him, and there was no way out of it. This time there was no slight lead that had allowed him to escape before.

And if anyone knew what the Nightmares were truly capable of, it was the one who made them; twisting the things that the Sandman used to give children good dreams into something truly terrifying, the embodiment of every last—

"Oh, Klaudia, stop it," a female voice chided. "I'm fine; stop fussing."

The horse bypassed the Nightmare King completely, its nose coming to rest on a woman's head. On closer inspection, there was no way he should have confused it for his own creations—the horse was a pale shade of gold, almost like the Sandman's sand. Looking around, he saw other horses scattered about a field [when had he passed through the fence, he didn't remember].

"Yes, I can stand, hold on," the woman continued, a portion of her bangs taking up residence in the horse's—_Klaudia?_—mouth. She completed the spoken of action, detaching herself and petting the animal's nose tenderly. "I'm not hurt, even if I don't understand what just—oh my god, are you alright?!"

It took a moment for Pitch to realize he was the one being addressed, and a few more seconds to compose himself enough to speak, even if it was only three words. "I am fine," he said tersely.

"I don't mean to be rude but... you don't seem fine," the woman said in response, offering a hand to help him up with. He hesitated before taking it. "I was just letting the horses out, so they'll be fine out here for a while. Would you like to come inside?"

"Where exactly is... 'inside'?" he questioned, finishing standing up and letting go of the woman's hand. Another look around the area only confirmed trees, field, and horses to be around.

"It's a bit of a walk, but it's that way." She raised a gloved hand to point behind him. He turned around, a barn and, further back, a house entering his vision. "If you were running, though, maybe you could sit down in the barn instead. It is heated, plus there's running water if you need it. You seem like at the very least you need to rest."

The words were true, but the Nightmare King [did he even deserve that title anymore?] was skeptic. The Nightmares were probably still after him. _(But wouldn't they have caught you already?)_ There he was, out in the open, stationary, not even capable of protecting himself, and yet the Fearlings were nowhere in sight. Surely it was safe—maybe even _safer_—to take refuge in a house for a moment to catch his breath.

"I can walk," he asserted. The woman nodded, pouting the horse's snout one last time before stepping off. The immortal followed, eyes flicking off to look at the horses more than once. He almost stopped when a black animal entered the corners of his vision, standing by the fence, staring him. It was only a white marking on the [perfectly normal] horse's stomach that assured him he was still safe. "There are... a lot of horses here."

"Yes, I'm a breeder." The answer was supplied without specific prompting, and the woman smiled as she spoke. "I sometimes even open up the ranch up for kids from the nearby towns to get horse riding lessons, too."

_(That includes the children that just)_

"Surely you don't work here alone." The barn was noticeably empty of any workers as they entered. Combined with the lack of any other people outside, it seemed unusual.

"Oh, of course not!" she exclaimed. "There's no way I could handle all this on my own nonstop. It is Easter weekend, though. I gave all the hired help some time off. I guess the supposed downside is that I have to stay here myself for the weekend, but I really don't mind at all."

He frowned at the mention of the holiday, even if he had technically succeeded at ruining it. He forced himself to straighten out the expression on his face—the look in her eyes as she helped him up earlier had been _pity_ of all things, and the Nightmare King would not stand for it.

The house seemed much closer now that they were out the opposite end if the barn. It was a simple thing, one story and blue. The remains of the boy's snow crunched under their footsteps.

"Your hand felt cold," the woman muttered. Pitch looked down, her own eyes staring back apprehensively. "I could make you hot chocolate—oh, you're not a fan." He hadn't meant to make face, but hot chocolate was permanently associated with Christmas for him. "Would you prefer tea then?"

"It will do."

The woman walked up a small set of stairs leading to the house’s door, opening it and gesturing for her guest to go inside. He complied and she had a small struggle to pull her boots off. By the time the door was closed, she had already bustled past him, jacket hanging off a hook by the doorway.

The Nightmare King followed, entering what he assumed to be the kitchen. It was strange; he usually only visited the bedrooms of houses or slinked about their hallways, and he almost _never_ entered through the front door.

“You can sit down, if you like,” the woman offered, her back turned towards him. She seemed focused on providing him with the aforementioned tea. He took a seat, grateful that she didn’t appear to be one that decorated for the holidays. The next few minutes passed in a surprisingly comfortable silence.

It was a relief, being able to sit down, to not have to run. The foreign experience of fear was gone. True, he wasn’t feeling completely like himself yet, but it was nothing like the terrible panic he had gone through. The fact that, despite how long he had stayed in the same relative area, the Nightmares were (presumably) nowhere close was simply a bonus.

A tea cup was eventually placed in front of him, alongside a spoon and sugar bowl. “I didn’t know if you’d want any,” the woman admitted. Even though she tried to make it not obvious, he could still tell her own cup was filled with hot chocolate as she sat down. The sugar remained untouched as they both took their first sips of their respective beverages.

“You can stay here.”

“What?” The sentence was so sudden, that the Nightmare King could only manage a one-word response. The woman faltered a bit, staring into her mug.

“Sorry for being so sudden,” she apologized, hesitating before continuing. “It’s just… You’ve been through some hardship, right?” [Oh how devastatingly right she was] “It’s alright for you to stay here for a while if you need to.”

There was that look in her eyes again, that pity. He wanted to do something—turn out the lights, push it back on her, _show_ her that the _Nightmare King_ was _not_ someone to be _pitied_—but something stopped him. His own fear was terrible, and _wasn’t this a safe place?_

Would it hurt to stay? Just for a bit. The Nightmares hadn’t made it to this place. It wasn’t as if they eventually wouldn’t _(You made sure they were quite determined)_, but that was something to worry about later. He would be safe for at least a day, perhaps two. And if the Guardians were looking for him, too, he highly doubted they would check here—for who would ever think that he would take up safe house with a human?

“I accept,” he answered, and the woman’s eyes lit up again as she smiled, all traces of that disgusting pity gone.

“I hope I can treat you well. Please feel free to stay as long as you need,” she said. “Oh, I suppose we should introduce ourselves. I’m Madeline Thorburn.”

He almost lied about his name. There was no reason to tell the truth. He would be here for a day, two at most, and then they would more than likely never see each other again. Human names were easy enough to lie about anyway; they were simple things.

And then the realization struck that this woman could actually see him.

“Pitch Black.”


	2. Chapter One: Safety

**Strength**

By: Aviantei

Chapter One: Safety

* * *

Madeline Thorburn was, in nearly every sense of the word, an adult. She had long passed the age of eighteen, the human’s main marker for adulthood in legal circumstances. Beyond that, she seemed to be in good shape maturity-level wise, if the well-maintained house and management of a moderately successful horse farm were any indication. She did her work, paid her bills, and was able to provide a decent enough experience to her suddenly acquired houseguest.

And yet, whether she was aware of it or not, she still had a belief in something as childish as the Boogeyman.

It was the slightest bit dusty, but after they had finished their drinks, Madeline had easily fixed up a guest room to be acceptable for living. The room itself was plain, but it held all the human essentials—a bed, a closet, a dresser, a lamp, etc.—which Pitch chose not to point out his lack of need for. Shortly afterward, she apologized and ran out to presumably go care for the horses, promising dinner afterwards.

Despite its size, the house itself seemed to be rather lacking in comparison to the norm. Pitch had watched humans develop multitudes of toys they didn’t really need over the centuries, but Madeline didn’t seem to own many of them. Where others had televisions and computers (and often multiples), her main source of entertainment appeared to be a radio in the kitchen, and her most advanced piece of technology to be her microwave.

There wasn’t much else to be explored either. Even when slipping between cracks under doors let him surpass any locks, there wasn’t much to offer. All things considered, if there had been something in the entertainment department, Pitch doubted he would have been able to focus on it properly.

It was starting to get dark by the time Madeline finally came inside, apologizing again for needing to take a shower before cooking. Pitch kept his responses to a minimum, only giving the impression that he was not particularly bothered by the fact.

Even so, he ended up sitting in the kitchen once Madeline came out of the bathroom. Her dirty blonde hair was let out of the bun it had been in earlier, a towel draped over her shoulders as she started to cook. The radio turned on soon enough (Pitch had to admit he didn’t know enough about modern music to identify it), filling up the silence.

“I’m not very good at small talk,” Madeline admitted. “I’ve been living out here alone for a while, and the only people I really talk to are the hired help. In fact, I probably could only lead a decent conversation about horses. Sorry about that.”

Pitch didn’t really see it as a problem, even if he understood how such a thing could be a bother in her eyes. It occurred to him that she was also probably in the category of people who are better at listening to others. “It isn’t something that particularly concerns me,” he said. “You don’t need to talk.”

His host’s turned back prevented the Nightmare King from reading her expression. However, he could sense her nervousness. After all, it was only a step away from fear, and over something so simple and silly, too.

_What if I give a bad impression?_

If only she knew who she was dealing with: that her house guest was a monster. That at a simple whim he could make her worst fears come to life. Maybe then she wouldn’t be concerned with something as trivial as whether or not she could indulge in pleasantries like small talk.

“I didn’t mean to force conversation on you,” Madeline said. “As you may have guessed, I don’t often have guests over.”

Pitch thought back to the layer of dust in the guest room. “It is a bit out of the way to be convenient,” he commented, even though in his case it was the opposite. For him, the isolation made it a rather safe haven, particularly since there wouldn’t be much fear to attract the Nightmares either.

“I suppose…”

Pitch waited for the obvious questions to come—_Why are you out here? What happened? What were you running from?—_but Madeline stayed silent. For some reason, he was almost annoyed that she hadn’t asked. He was certain anyone else would have.

Then again, even if she did ask, just what exactly would he say? Pitch probably wouldn’t be able to speak the truth, to _explain_ exactly what had happened, how he had been defeated. So then it would probably be a lie, even if he probably would have to prepare something in advance. At the very least he could provide the deflection that he didn’t want to talk about it.

[Hadn’t he wanted to lie about his name, and ended up using the real thing in the end?]

But what was the point in thinking up an answer if she would never ask?

* * *

The plan had been perfect. At the very least Pitch was certain it had been. He was going to get it, the belief he wanted. The fear would be his—the _children_ would be his, and the Guardians [so stuck-up, so pretentious] _(but they were right, weren’t they?)_ would pay by experiencing the pain he had gone through for _centuries_.

But that hadn’t worked. Because one little coincidence, one little mistake, one little _child_ had been enough for things to turn against him. Just as North had said in the end, as long as one child believed, that would be enough. Pitch didn’t even have that to help him.

_(So wasn’t it natural that he had lost?)_

But it wasn’t just the defeat that was gnawing at Pitch’s insides, although it certainly was present. The main factor preventing that was that he had been defeated in the past, and it was only a matter of time before he would go back to plotting his revenge once again. That much was certain.

The difference was that he had never been defeated like _this_.

It was one thing to be beaten. He could use his loss to learn from his mistakes to turn things to his advantage. It was another and completely different thing to have your own plans turned against you. To come to the recognition of what exactly he had been causing all this time, and to have his two main weapons—the fear and the Nightmares—rebound back on him at the same time.

It was terrible.

He had been chased back into his own home by the Nightmares, and Pitch was certain they intended to keep him there. After all, they grew stronger from fear, the same as their creator. Following the solid defeat they had been delivered, both parties need to regain all the strength they would get. And there wasn’t much else left to feed off of.

And while the Nightmares could benefit from the situation, Pitch most certainly did not. The Boogeyman spent a few hours settled against a wall when he should have been tallying up the remains of his arsenal. The realization that dawned in that time _(you’re beaten, the Nightmare King is powerless, because no one believes in you, _just like always_)_ was mind-numbing enough that his usual strategic train of thought no longer even functioned.

It was due to a particular moment of self-depreciation _(you’re nothing anymore)_ that he realized that the Nightmares were more than likely just as weak as he was. That it had been—_please let it be true_—the Fearlings’ numbers that had allowed his capture. And that meant, if the situation would play into his favor, their recovering state should be enough to permit an escape.

So he observed [never mind the panic still present, weighing down his chest] as the Nightmares eventually spread out, some even retreating into the farther parts of his home to recover in. And once he was satisfied he could manage the depleted number if necessary, Pitch took his opportunity to slip through the plentiful shadows towards an exit.

The issue then arose that the hole beneath the bedframe had sealed itself once the Nightmares had dragged him back underground. Pitch was able to form a new exit, but the time it took to do so was too much for the Nightmares not to recognize what was happening. By the time he finally emerged back into the world of light [still in that boy’s forest, with his snow making the surroundings nearly blinding after the darkness] the horses were already in pursuit of their escaping source of energy.

Which was the point where he had started running.

As much as Pitch wanted to view his escape as a victory to help heal his bruised ego, it had really just been luck that the Nightmares had spread themselves apart in the first place. It was luck that he had outrun them, and it was luck that Madeline Thorburn could provide him with a place to say that was even remotely safe.

But the feeling of safety was nowhere near enough to erase the memory of his own experience with fear. Pitch didn’t sleep much anyway on a regular basis [he couldn’t remember the last time he had slept properly, unnecessary as it was as an immortal, although it had certainly been a long time ago]. But even once dinner was finished, Madeline informing her guest of a small bookcase he had missed in one of the side rooms, and all the lights were out, the Boogeyman merely sat on his bed in silence.

He supposed that this was the equivalent of a waking nightmare, a never-ending thought process concerning the events of the past few days, on constant repeat. Remembering the moments of power he experienced only made the end result seem worse and worse. It was over, all over, all of that had been for nothing, he was powerless, no one believed in him, that seemed to be the way it was always meant to be, and it _just wouldn’t stop_.

He only pulled himself out of the train of thought once Madeline peaked into the doorway, asking if he was awake and interested in breakfast. It seemed as if she was an early riser—Pitch hadn’t bothered to close the curtains over the room’s single window, and the outside still proved to be dark. And while the woman seemed surprised, eyes resting for far more than a few moments on the clearly unused bedspread, she still didn’t ask a thing.

It seemed as if she lacked a fundamental curiosity—or maybe she was just being polite instead? Either way, Pitch felt a sliver of irritation [she believed in him, so she should ask] _(aren’t you expecting a bit too much?)_, even if she was no longer visibly pitying him.

But that annoyance wasn’t enough for Pitch to decline the offered breakfast. A part of him insisted on following her into the kitchen, as if she was the only thing keeping him safe simply because he was no longer alone with his thoughts. It was ridiculous, and Pitch mentally berated himself _(it’s almost like she’s a security blanket)_.

He tried to make it unnecessary. But the Boogeyman still ended up waiting for a breakfast that he didn’t need. Because the fact of the matter was that the worries were still invading his thoughts, despite the radio’s chatter and food frying on the stovetop.

“Madeline,” Pitch said, speaking her name for the first time. While he didn’t know about what, he wanted her to speak with him. Her self-proclaimed inability to conduct small talk was inconsequential. After all, conversation would give him something else to give active focus on, make the fear easier to counter.

Madeline seemed to pick up on his hesitation—and some of her own nervousness dwindled in response. “I’m sorry, Pitch,” she said, “but I just realized I never asked you how you like your eggs.” It was simple, so _human_ a concern that the Boogeyman almost laughed. However, he caught himself. Discouraging her from talking by the mockery that was so instinctual served his purpose no good.

Neither did his controlled silence. Madeline glanced at him over her shoulder, frowning slightly. After a small moment of thought—he ate just about as much as he slept, although a little more—Pitch answered, “It doesn’t matter. Prepare them any way you like.”

His mouth remained open after speaking. He had intended to transition—with grace—into a proper conversation, but nothing came to mind. It occurred to him that the Boogeyman had little practical need for participating in small talk, particularly since no one really saw him and other spirits avoided him. It put Pitch and Madeline on even terms.

He could talk, and quite eloquently as well. He could go on without pause [just like he had done with Frost only a few nights ago] about people’s fears, picking them apart and making everything worse. He could make speeches that could send one’s morale in either the positive or negative direction. But for all his desire to be believed in, to be seen, Pitch had expected to be inspiring fear rather than sitting down for a chat over breakfast.

“You’re up early,” he decided to comment. Madeline responded to the microwave first, the sound signaling that it was done happening at the same time as his words. The trip ended in a mug of tea nearly identical to the one from the previous night in front of him. The sugar bowl was nowhere in sight.

“So are you,” Madeline said. Pitch didn’t even bother to expect the obvious question. She skipped over it like experience predicted. “I didn’t wake you up did I?”

“No.” The plates were next to reach the table. It was a simple meal: eggs, bacon, toast. Pitch hadn’t even considered that he would stay long enough to be treated to a second meal.

“That’s good. I’m sorry that it’s so plain. I’m not a very talented chef. I only know the basics to survive on my own.” Madeline gave a small smile. “Things are really busy during the day, so I apologize in advance for lunch being dull, too. That is, if you’re still here.”

_If you’re still here._

He really should just leave after eating. No, he should already be gone. The Boogeyman had no business relying on the hospitality of a human woman. He could be out, reasserting his powers [regaining his confidence] but only quietly, so as to keep the Guardians out of his way until he was ready.

_(But are you even ready for that?)_

The Nightmares were still out there, rampant, no longer under his control. And if the last night was any indication, Pitch was—unreasonably, infuriatingly—not going to be able to properly handle the situation just yet. Leaving was out of the question.

“That shouldn’t be a problem.”

She was shocked for a second, but then Madeline smiled. It wasn’t out of pity, but instead joy that was conveyed from her features. Pitch still ended up looking away—no one was ever happy to see him or about what he did, and children could be reduced to tears by the mere idea of his extended presence. And yet she had smiled.

_(It’s only because she doesn’t know what you are)_ [That didn’t change the fact that, despite the awkwardness, it felt nice.]

“You’re not that picky, are you?” Madeline said, standing up. Pitch felt a flutter of surprise at the sudden action. Closer inspection when he looked properly showed that the woman’s plate was already empty. “Not that that’s a bad thing. At the very least it allows making your stay here nice simpler.”

Pitch didn’t have a proper response. He let the comment slide in place of changing the subject. “And you certainly eat fast.”

Madeline let out a small laugh, her nervousness spiking up again. “Well I do eat by myself most of the time. Plus I have work to do,” she explained. “Sure, no one’s going to be here for some time, but I need to be ready to go. I am the boss after all. But if you want company while you eat, I do have some time to spare. You are my guest.”

He almost took the offer, simply because he didn’t want to be alone. But that was only a side effect of his less than relaxing night and about as pathetic as he could get. “There is no need to give any special treatment.” _(Other than her fear, you want her fear, so why are you)_ “I don’t intend to disrupt your daily life any more than I already have.”

Madeline rinsed off her plate before adding it to a small stack beside the sink. “Alright. Feel free to come outside any time. I can take a break to show you the horses if you’re interested.”

Pitch’s own interest in horses was currently diminished. Even if the ones in the barn were perfectly normal, he was still reminded of the Nightmares. Yet it would be a reason to be around someone else _(it’s a pathetic excuse, flimsy really)_ which would help keep his thoughts distracted. Right now, that was enough. “I’ll consider it.”

Madeline gave one last smile before she left the kitchen, the front door closing a few minutes later. She hadn’t turned off the radio, it now providing the only noise left in the room. Pitch almost stood up to follow before he realized what he was doing.

He had already decided not to do anything of the sort. She had a job to do, and Pitch Black would _not_ follow her around like some lost puppy. That truly was pathetic action, and he would only have himself to blame for the look she gave him.

Besides, that would only leave his breakfast abandoned, and he had asked for it in the first place [never mind his reasons]. If he was going to continue taking up space, surely he could eat the food, despite the fact that he really didn’t need it. He may have been the Boogeyman, but that didn’t mean he had to be uncivilized.

[That didn’t change how human he was acting] _(Are you only using this to fool her, you can’t really mean it)_ [Why would he mean it, this was for _safety_, and nothing else]

Pitch picked up his fork and poked at one of the eggs—sunny side up—breaking its yolk and sending a wave of yellow across the plate.

* * *

For being left alone for nearly four hours, he had been holding up quite well. Maybe it was the light that made a difference. It was a lot easier to forget something could be hiding in darkness when the dark was nowhere to be found. And wasn’t that way small children ended up with night lights in the first place?

The layout of Madeline’s living room was a great help in this. Unlike the guest room’s one rather small window, here an entire wall was sacrificed to glass, a sliding door in the center. Outside were a small patio, then nothing but hills and the sun once it had risen. The woods were nowhere in sight, presumably on the other side of the house. And while Pitch wasn’t enthralled that the snow—the boy’s snow—was still there, he appreciated that the outside seemed slightly brighter because of it.

The irony that he was looking for light was not lost on him.

He had paid little mind to the bookshelf the previous day, then only having had the intention to explore the house. Today, it really was the only place to find something to do aside from think. And while it had taken some time to find a book he hadn’t read recently—one could only spend so much of their time plotting revenge and scaring children—Pitch was ultimately successful.

And while reading had been enough to keep him distracted from thinking too hard, it wasn’t a particularly successful endeavor. The hours passed, and, while Pitch admitted it had been quite some time since he had sat down to read—_Am I out of practice?_—he had barely made any progress in the contents of the book. Usually he could finish a volume in half the time it had just taken him to finish the first chapter.

Once the realization struck that he had been reading the same two pages repeatedly without retaining any information, he called the farce off. Standing, Pitch returned the book to its place on the shelf, marks in the layer of dust ensuring that he would be able to find it again if he ever bothered. There was no particular reason to be distracted—he hadn’t thought of the Nightmares at all since breakfast, and the house was empty with Madeline outside working.

Pitch paced back and forth a few times; then he was heading out the door. Leaving didn’t cross his mind anymore. She had offered to show him the horses, hadn’t she? Why not take up the offer? What else would he do—sit around and not even be able to engage in something as simple as reading? If he couldn’t do that, he probably couldn’t focus preparing to leave either. Seeing the horses was at least _something_.

_(You’re in trouble if you need to keep forcing justifications like this for every little thing you do.)_

Due to the snow the previous day, Pitch hadn’t realized the path connecting Madeline’s house to the barn was in fact a dirt road. It was shoveled off—maybe that was why she had woken up so early, although Pitch had a hard time picturing Madeline wielding a shovel—the snow that still refused to melt in piles on the road’s edge. Muddied tire tracks led up to the only other completely clear spot, where four vehicles of varying makes and colors were parked next to the barn.

Even from here he could see a few of the horses, more than likely meaning the animals were probably all been let out already. Sure enough, the barn was empty when he entered, quiet save for a noise coming from the ceiling. Pitch paused to look up; there was probably a second floor up there. Judging off the size of the barn from the outside, it seemed likely enough. He just didn’t have any idea of what would be up there, nor was he particularly interested.

It was a nice barn, though, that much he had to admit. The wood looked relatively new, and fluorescent lights shone from the ceiling. Each of the horses’ stalls was a decent size, wooden signs painted with overly ornate letters depicting the name of each stalls occupant. Food and water were ready as well, although the hay on the floors looked as if it was in need of cleaning. The air was even warm, thanks to the heating system he remembered Madeline mentioning yesterday. It must have been a nice place to stay if you were a horse.

After a brief consideration of if he should check upstairs for Madeline, Pitch finally exited into the field. Even if she was still in the building, it would be easier to look around outside first anyways. A few minutes of searching would answer the question, and then he could return to the barn if necessary.

A reddish brown horse trotted towards him, and Pitch took a step back. It was still affecting him, what the Nightmares had done. It was fresh in his mind, heart speeding up even though the horse in front of him was perfectly normal. Pitch placed a hand back on the barn door, considering heading back inside immediately.

The horse ended up ignoring him, causing Pitch to wonder if it could even see him in the first place. Animals could be just as subjective as humans when it came to what they saw. Some immortals had no problems talking to the most obscure creatures—like North and Toothiana—but Pitch never bothered unless he was enlisting help in a scare, and even then it was more of issuing commands. Otherwise, animals usually just ignored him [they probably could sense something awful even if they didn’t see him]. This particular horse could simply just not care if the Boogeyman was in its presence.

It was harmless anyway. Even if it did anything, there was nothing that could cause as much pain to Pitch as the Nightmares. Besides, he hadn’t even accomplished what he had wanted yet. Relaxing, his eyes scanned over the field—if Madeline was wearing the same blue scarf as she had been yesterday, finding her would be a simple task.

It turned out she was still wearing it, and it made the woman stick out amongst the rest of the world. Madeline was talking to one of her workers—a tall redhead that towered over his boss—who came running towards the barn seconds later, presumably on orders.

Pitch took a few steps towards his target before [there was a swift pressure, hot, burning, leaving only a feeling of absolute cold in its wake, always more terrible than any other thing he had and would ever] _(don’t act surprised, you knew this was coming) _the man passed right through him.


	3. Chapter Two: Discomfort

**Strength**

By: Aviantei

Chapter Two: Discomfort

* * *

Pitch put a hand to his chest—as always, being passed through left him breathless. The only difference from this and fear, he realized, was the sensation of being absolutely frozen. The cold never bothered him otherwise. It was as if he was completely drained of everything, because it was an absolute reminder that _he was not believed in_.

It shouldn’t have affected him as much as it was doing now. After all, it had happened to him so many times over the years. It had happened to him _yesterday morning_ at that, and yet it hurt as much as the first time it had occurred, all those centuries ago.

He had gotten used to the new feeling. Not even a full day and he was taking Madeline’s belief in him for granted. And it was so isolated out here that it kept both the Nightmares and common sense out. There wasn’t anyone else present to remind him of the truth. It was a simple enough trick of the mind, and Pitch had fallen for it out of some desperate hope that everything was as he had imagined it to be in his fantasies.

As if one woman could ever be enough to change anything that important. As if she could actually be enough to satisfy his desire for belief. As if it would be that _easy_. Everything that had happened recently—the defeat, the betrayal, the fear, the false sense of security—had obviously shaken him, and being passed through only made it obvious. He should have _known_ it wouldn’t be that perfect. Hadn’t he known that from the start of this game with the Man in the Moon and the Guardians?

So why had he ended up thinking otherwise?

“Pitch!” Madeline shouted. The basket she had been holding was on the ground, Klaudia sniffing at the apples that had spilled after its fall.

One single woman had made Pitch feel like everything was fine so maybe it was her fault nothing was. Not on purpose, of course; Madeline was too kind for that. But that kindness had been what lulled him into this false sense of security. She was a problem, she was a distraction, she was—

She was _solid_ and she was _warm_.

Madeline looked absolutely distraught, and part of Pitch celebrated, because her panic was the only good thing about the situation. She was worried that maybe he wasn’t _(one little seed of doubt and it was all over)_, her hands keeping an iron grip on Pitch’s own. They could still touch each other, and Pitch could feel some of the lingering cold that permeated his bones start to ebb away.

“Boss, you alright?” a voice asked. Pitch turned, one hand freeing itself from Madeline’s grasp. The redheaded man stared at his boos, eyes passing through the Boogeyman same as the man’s body had seconds ago. “You look panicked. What’d you just say?”

Madeline’s green eyes flickered between the two men, and Pitch sighed at his questioning gaze. “Stay calm,” he instructed before lifting his free hand. He hesitated _(why are you even doing this?)_ and then willingly passed his own hand through the redhead’s shoulder.

The feeling was less intense than before, contributed to the facts that it was only his hand, it had been willing, and Pitch had made himself as prepared as he was ever going to be. And while Madeline was shocked—her hand tightening its grip to signal what the Boogeyman’s senses already knew—she kept herself from screaming.

“He is unable to detect my presence,” Pitch explained further. He kept his words undetached, but it didn’t make it hurt any less. “So don’t look at me. More seriously, I would suggest not trying to talk to me either, unless you want him to think you’re mentally ill.” He wanted to tell Madeline to let go of his of his hand, but her grip only strengthened as he spoke.

She was afraid that if she let go, he would disappear. But the influence of Pitch’s power stopped there, and he was a loss for the reason _why_.

“I’m fine, Jarrod,” Madeline said, addressing her worker and staring into his eyes. She was trying too hard, and Pitch’s senses latched onto the other man’s worry. “I was just thinking we could take an early lunch break.”

Jarrod looked confused by the words. “But it’s only”—he fumbled to look at his watch—“ten thirty. And you said to start cleaning out the stalls and—”

“And now I’m saying to take an early lunch,” Madeline countered. There was a commanding note in her voice that took Pitch by surprise. “You, me, Maria, Derek, Peter, all of us. I’ll pick up the apples. You can get Derek then go inside and tell the others.”

Jarrod frowned, but his dissatisfaction apparently wasn’t enough to make him argue with his boss. “Alright,” he agreed, not able to hide the reluctance in his tone. “Are you going to be joining us?”

Madeline shook her head. “No, I didn’t sit down to prepare lunch this morning, so I need to go back to the house.” Pitch wondered if that was because of him or if she had spent the time on something else. “But all of you feel free to take as much time as you like. If I’m not back to give orders when you’re done, you can start cleaning up the stables of it bothers you that much.”

“S-sure thing, Boss.” For whatever reason, Jarrod was unnerved by Madeline’s smile. He ran off into the field following his order to find Derek. Pitch noticed the redhead tossing a worried look in Madeline’s direction, but not saying anything else.

The woman herself took a few breaths before letting go of Pitch’s hand. She too kept her silence, only executing an abrupt about face and walking off. The remaining apples were returned to their basket, Madeline delivering a swift rap to Klaudia’s nose for what the horse had eaten. From there, she headed back to the barn.

Pitch didn’t particularly like the prospect of being passed through again when Jarrod returned, so he followed Madeline into the barn. Her silence was starting to wear at his nerves. What if she wasn’t anything because, to her, there wasn’t anyone left to say something to?

_(Because one little seed of doubt was enough, it’s why the children of Burgess forgot, why every other child forgot, and she’s an adult so it would only make sense)_

The door opened again, Jarrod entered, a brunette that Pitch assumed to be Derek following close behind. Neither of them paid the Boogeyman any notice before heading up a set of stairs by the entrance. A glance to Madeline showed she had placed the basket on a shelf and was now just standing there.

Pitch couldn’t deny the apprehension he was feeling; his own powers simply wouldn’t let him. Even if Madeline was a source of trouble, she was a believer. Losing that would only weaken him further. He wanted to touch her, to reassure himself that that illogical belief was still there.

But if she didn’t, wouldn’t that just make it easier to leave? Pitch had grown far too attached for his tastes, which was definitely a hindrance. She was the cause. He could deal with not being safe if it would get him away from this, this—_madness_.

Pitch turned to leave, but Madeline was quicker. Her hand reached out for him again, this time latching onto his wrist—still solid, still warm. The man was stopped in his tracks. There was so much desperation in the action that Pitch paused further to revel in it. And all that desperation made it into one word.

“_Don’t._”

It was a whisper, nothing like the commands Madeline had issued earlier, and probably the most she could muster. Her face was turned down, staring at the ground. Dirty blonde bangs blocked any view of her expression. For a moment it seemed as if she might cry, but Pitch had no intentions to comfort the woman if she did. That was not his job. Even if some inexplicable compulsion were to make him want to, there was the great possibility that he lacked such ability.

“‘Don’t’?” Pitch repeated, even if her fear was ringing to him, pure and powerful. Madeline swallowed, looking up to him. Her eyes were free of tears.

“Don’t leave,” she elaborated, voice stronger. “I have questions to ask you…” Here Madeline faltered, words not able to describe what was happening. At the very least she was finally caving into the curiosity Pitch was almost convinced she didn’t have.

“I was under the impression that you were going to prepare lunch,” he said. Madeline blinked. “Surely you haven’t forgotten. I told you I would not interfere with your routine, even if I am the one being imposed on in this particular instance.”

“I’m already deviating here.” Madeline looked to the basket of apples as if to prove a point. She let out a small laugh, her grip disappearing from Pitch’s wrist. “But if you insist, we can talk at the house.”

Madeline headed towards the barn door, far more put together than she had been a second ago. It wasn’t even a show—Pitch _knew_ her worry was disappearing at an impressive rate. It was annoying, but his curiosity won out in the end. He followed the woman who was quickly recovering from discovering her houseguest probably wasn’t even human.

It was a wonder she hadn’t guessed already. After all, aside from structure he barely looked human. Pitch’s eyes were a golden color not available in the human gene pool, and his skin a pale gray not even found on the sickest of people. And yet Madeline had let him in, not suspecting a thing. It was just another part of the list of questions she may only now be preparing to ask.

In consideration, his name could come under question; it was a valid option. On a human, “Pitch Black” could sound nothing more than made up. Madeline had to at least have held _some_ suspicion about him from the moment he spoke the words. And yet she still let him into her home, infinitely trusting.

Or maybe, he mused, she simply wasn’t all that bright.

Pitch dismissed the train of thought as they reentered the kitchen. If Madeline was going to be asking questions then he best be prepared to provide some answers. The woman seemed distracted at best, having reverted to pacing the kitchen floor. Pitch took a seat in the chair that was almost becoming a regular spot. He watched the woman from there, amused.

Madeline stopped muttering to herself. Forgetting her consent to make lunch while talking—that _had_ been the agreement, correct?—she sat across from her houseguest, leaning on the table to speak.

“You _are_ real, right?”

The words felt more like a punch in the gut than a simple question. It was that seed of doubt that could change whatever questionable thread of belief it was the woman held. Pitch was so wrapped up in the feeling that he couldn’t even enjoy Madeline’s desperation for answers properly. He paused to compose himself before clicking his tongue. “Why ever wouldn’t I be?”

_(Because you’re a legend, a fairy tale, and you shouldn’t even exist to her)_

“Be… because!” Madeline exclaimed. It appeared she still couldn’t find a reasonable way to describe what was happening. “No one else even _sees_ you! No offense, Pitch, but your clothes are enough to make you stick out. And you were _right there_ beside me, and Jarrod didn’t say a word. I hadn’t even mentioned I had a guest yet. He should have at least thought you were a client, a visitor, _something_!”

Pitch frowned. He had been there; he didn’t need a play-by-play recap of the situation. But Madeline was drawing ever closer to hysteria, so he let it slide. Her concerns were normal, and the panic was refreshing.

“Just because others don’t see me doesn’t make me any less real,” he said. That much was true. Even if nobody believed in him, he would still be there. “It’s just that others don’t have what it takes to recognize my presence.”

There he was, making it sound like it was a good thing to see him, a superpower even, when to humans it wasn’t. It was almost a rite of passage to stop believing in the spirits. That was even more so for the Boogeyman. Parents wanted their children to stop begging to have their closets and spaces under the bed checked before they slept. Unlike some of the others, believing in Pitch was a nuisance to humans.

Madeline swallowed. “What _are_ you?” she asked. Her hands were on the table, giving a clear view of her clenched fists trying to stop her fingers from shaking. Fear of the unknown, one of the most basic instincts, rolled off her in waves. “Other people pass right through you. But I…” Suddenly her hand was hovering by Pitch’s face. “But I can touch you. What’s the difference?”

“Because you believe,” Pitch answered. It was difficult to keep a straight face when Madeline established contact again. She needed constant reassurance that she still could. As long as it kept her focused on him, Pitch supposed he could deal with it for a short amount of time.

“Because I believe,” Madeline said, a skeptic tone entering her voice. The warmth disappeared from Pitch’s cheek. “I don’t understand what you mean. Believe in what?”

The Boogeyman hesitated. If anything would be enough to break Madeline’s shell of innocent trust she had, the truth could be it. A poor explanation would probably make her believe he was insane, locked in some delusion. Maybe even to the point he needed to be locked up somewhere. Not that he could be subjected to that, but it would allow for a forced exit.

But if she was going to ask at last, he might as well try to make it understandable. “There are certain things in this world that are known by people, although not necessarily everywhere,” Pitch started. “The stuff of legends, if you will. An idea that there is something with power, even if it isn’t seen. In most cultures, I suppose you could say they are spirits, gods, or even mere fairytales. Do you understand so far?”

Madeline nodded.

“Whether or not they are revered as fact or fiction is irrelevant. All fantasies have a starting point in the truth. More often than not, these ‘spirits’ we’re discussing here do exist. As do thousands of others that humans don’t even recognize.”

Like him.

_(Like you)_

[Like me.]

“What they do with their time is highly self-motivated. Some are given powers, and others have a purpose handed to them based of their talents. Sometimes they give to humans, and sometimes they take. Most either do both or neither. Immortals can be just as diverse in the personality department as anything else that lives.”

Pitch stopped there, realizing he was derailing from what the conversation was supposed to be about. Madeline’s posture was now more relaxed, leaning back in her chair with eyes closed. She probably needed a few minutes to process the information.

“So you mean that legends are real,” she said once she sat up straight again. Madeline’s gaze focused on Pitch. “So something like nature spirits or… I don’t know, the Easter Bunny. They exist.”

Pitch grimaced at the mention of one of his foes. It was a valid example considering the time of year, but that didn’t make him feel any better. Madeline didn’t retract her question, concerns too focused on an answer to notice the man’s discomfort. “Yes,” he answered.

“I’m sorry, this is just a lot to take in,” Madeline said, rubbing a temple with her hand. “So these things exist. I guess I’ve never really taken a stand on whether or not they were real, which is why I’ve never thought too much about it. Not that it matters right now.”

“Of course it matters,” Pitch retorted. Madeline flinched at his unintentional fierceness added to the words. “Obviously you have taken a stand, even if you’re not conscious of it. If you hadn’t, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. If you ask me, it’s rather obvious that you haven’t grown out of it.”

Madeline’s eyes narrowed. Pitch didn’t blame her; it did sound like an insult. “Grown out of what?” If she was angry, her voice didn’t show it.

“Usually only children believe in these things, and stop when they reach a certain age. That is putting other variables aside. But if they are not believed in, that does not make a spirit go away. They are no longer seen by that person but they are still there.”

Pitch wasn’t certain why he was bothering with this much information, but at the very least he was being listened to. Madeline was back to contemplating his words with a mix of childlike wonder and adult skepticism. However, she would need to come to an understanding soon unless he wanted questions on every little Spirit she knew rumors of. The last thing he wanted was to be in a discussion on the Guardians.

“…So that’s why Jarrod didn’t see you, he doesn’t believe in you,” Madeline concluded. Pitch gave a nod. It was an obvious answer, but it still hurt. “And apparently people can’t touch the spirits they don’t believe in.” The woman looked at her hand. “So I must believe in you. Then who are you? I’ve never heard of the name ‘Pitch Black’ until I met you. Unless you lied about your name.”

“It is my name, but I have others,” Pitch said. Of course, the rational concern of whether or not his name was false occurred in the presence of the unnatural. Regardless, it was enough. “Are you afraid of the Boogeyman?”

The sudden question made Madeline’s eyebrows furrow in concentration. Instead of making the obvious conclusion, she instead took the theoretical question seriously.

“Of course not,” she answered. Pitch was confused. Fear was the basis for believing in him, but Madeline claimed she did not such thing. How could this woman possibly see him then? “Even if he is real, which I’m assuming he is, I don’t see why I should be afraid. He hasn’t done anything to hurt me.” Madeline smiled.

This woman was baffling. Wasn’t it a given that people were afraid of things like him? Any monster was scary. But Madeline was looking him straight in the eyes without a care. Surely he would have remembered tormenting a child like that—it couldn’t have been long enough ago to have forgotten already. And if she still believed even now, not much change could have taken place to her personality.

“I suppose I haven’t,” Pitch admitted. The words were a murmur, but Madeline still picked up on them.

Her eyes widened. “You haven’t, meaning…” She spoke through a hand covering her mouth. “_You’re_ the Boogeyman… How is any of this even possible? It can’t be real…”

“Think for a second, will you?” Pitch snapped. Explaining would be a waste if it made Madeline _stop_ believing. That wasn’t what he wanted. Not when she was right in front of him. “It’s possible because that’s the way it is. It’s always been this way.

“And how can you deny what you’ve seen? Do you have any other reason for why your workers haven’t noticed me? Why the redhead passed through me? Just try and explain it, Madeline.”

Madeline stared at him. “I can’t,” she said, voice trembling. “I can’t explain it other than what you just said, unless I want to consider myself crazy. It’s just… If I believe, then why didn’t I know?”

The question pulled them both into silence. There was no good way to answer it. Belief was usually an active thing, something that a person was aware of. If you were to ask a normal question if they believed in a spirit, they would be able to answer. If Madeline had been asked the question if she believed in any of the spirits, even Pitch, he had the feeling she would have answered “no,” even if the current situation proved otherwise.

“I can answer that,” Pitch said. “You seem to be an unusual case, and I’m not an expert in phenomenon like that. I can only assume that you forgot you believed, without ever making the decision to stop believing.”

It was a shoddy explanation at best, but Madeline nodded as if it made perfect sense. She was new to the idea, after all, and Pitch was the only source of information she had. If she was to doubt one thing he said, she would have to doubt the rest. If she wanted to take his word as gospel, who was Pitch to complain?

“So then do you have powers?” Madeline asked. She faltered a bit, like she was afraid of offending him. “I mean, you _are_ technically a supernatural being, right? I may be wrong, but I feel as if you should have some sort of ability to frighten as many children that are afraid of the Boogeyman on your own.”

“I do.”

“Could I um… I’m not trying to be rude, but would it be alright if you could show me? I’m interested to see what it’s like…” It only made sense, considering this was her first encounter with a spirit of any kind. It was pure curiosity driving her question.

Even though he was better than the previous day, Pitch wasn’t completely recovered from his defeat yet. He was still weak _(powerless)_, his powers not completely under his command. He could summon some of his old strength, but it was only a fraction of what he had enjoyed at his height. Even so, we was willing to try to muster as much as he could.

She was asking for him to scare her after all.

Giving a glance around the room—Madeline’s eyes never leaving him the whole time [so eager]—he realized there wasn’t much to work with. He slipped into the shadows under the table where they sat, hyper-aware of every patch of darkness and what could be observed from it. He spread his power out, and the room was engulfed in darkness, no light source coming in from anywhere, and suddenly he was _everywhere_.

He focused his presence behind Madeline, her shock at the darkness making her easy enough to find. She was still sitting down, and Pitch leaned down without a sound, his head even with hers. Not wanting to overdo it, he said, “Boo,” his voice echoing around the room as if it was coming from everywhere at once.

Pitch could have continued on any other time, but he already felt weak enough, so he broke the illusion, the kitchen coming back into clarity in the sunlight. Madeline had jumped at the sound of his voice, and her heartbeat was racing as she turned around in her chair to see him. Her condition was satisfying, and Pitch walked back to the other side of the table, letting her fear rejuvenate him as he sat back down.

Madeline continued to stare at him, mouth and eyes filled with shock. She stared for a moment, considered saying something, and was only able to produce a whispered “Wow.” Pitch felt a sense of pride in his handiwork until he realized her fear was ebbing away to relief. Oddly enough, he realized that he was feeling the same thing.

She was glad that there was some form of proof for everything that had happened, that she wasn’t crazy for letting the stranger in her home convince her that he was the Boogeyman. Where it had been missing before, there was the line of connection letting Pitch know that Madeline believed in him without a trace of doubt. That was the most relieving thing of all.

However, where that gave him strength, he was still missing the usual boost he would get from someone that believed in him. She wasn’t afraid of him, which diminished the increase of power he could get from her. Practicality aside, it also was a matter of pride that he had yet to scare her, an action that should have been as simple as breathing for him.

Madeline Thorburn had looked him in the eye and said she wasn’t afraid of him. Pitch didn’t doubt that she could still say the same thing now—he could feel it as clearly as ever. Her reasons were based in a simple logic, primitive at best. She had said that she wasn’t afraid of the Boogeyman because he had never done anything wrong to her.

[Well how about I change that?]


	4. Chapter Three: Irritation

**Strength**

By: Aviantei

Chapter Three: Irritation

* * *

In the end, Madeline had no choice but to return to work. She tried to avoid it, prolonging out the meal preparation and completion times, giving small glances at Pitch to see if he had figured it out. If she had known that her nervousness only served to make him hyper-aware of the situation, he wondered how differently she would have acted. In the end, Pitch had to insist that the woman leave the house, stating that she couldn’t just abandon her job over something as trivial as having the Boogeyman in her home.

Except it wasn’t trivial. While the argument had worked in getting Madeline back to being the responsible adult she was somehow able to maintain being, Pitch almost let out a sigh of relief once he was alone. The fact that Madeline was able to act like there was nothing wrong with her lunch guest, even after all the effort he had gone through to discomfort her, had served as enough to erase the Nightmare King’s fear and replace it with annoyance. The only positive mark to the scenario was that she still believed in him.

_(She’s all you’ve got)_

At this point, Madeline Thorburn was possibly the only human in the world that still placed some value in the Boogeyman’s existence. Given his weakened condition, Pitch had no choice but to gather up what power he could. It was just beyond infuriating that the source he had was unstable and had the gall to say that she wasn’t afraid of him to his face.

Pitch could say that he had never been one to act rashly, an instinct that he was grateful for. It allowed him to pace himself, stop himself from making any decisions that could harm him in the end. As much as he hated to admit it at the moment, he needed Madeline’s belief. If he wasn’t careful, he could easily make her stop believing. Putting forward the work to make an adult that should by no means even acknowledge his existence fear him properly would take some planning.

And he did need this to work. There was no getting around it. Even if it was a ridiculous situation, it would provide the perfect springboard to Pitch’s recovery. If he could scare an adult, albeit a slightly immature one, scaring children should be simple. It would prove that he still deserved his title _(even though you really don’t)_ and make it so much easier to leave afterwards. He could defend himself once it happened. She would want him gone.

_(If you think you can manage that then just go ahead and try)_

Pitch went to his allocated guest room to think. He ignored the dust. The door lacked a lock to seclude himself, but assumed that Madeline would be working for quite some time, and even if she wasn’t, he didn’t see her as the type to just barge in without knocking. She was too far away to sense, but Pitch imagined that Madeline would be at the very least apprehensive about his presence whenever she returned.

[It made him feel better about her reaction at the very least]

Through the window of his guest room, Pitch was steadily aware of the way the sun was shifting across the sky, but didn’t care in the slightest. He was so focused in thought that the dark didn’t bother him, as it should have been in the first place. It was amazing how a small amount of focus could distract a person from what had prevented him from being able to think straight the previous night. He even persistently ignored Madeline’s soft knocks and calls from the other side of the door once she returned inside around the time the sun was setting and didn’t respond properly until she announced dinner and Pitch was forced to realize that there wasn’t a trace of light left in the sky.

He only took up the position at the table, though, nothing more. He may not have needed the food, but the act was still necessary. If he truly wanted to scare Madeline, Pitch needed to ensure that she maintained her already unnatural sense of security around him. There was no need to be hasty; these sorts of things needed time to come to proper fruition.

_(Whatever you need to tell yourself)_

Madeline was still skirting around her nervousness, which could have been considered a victory. However, Pitch knew that it wasn’t enough to meet the criteria. The more he focused on her mental state, the more dissatisfied he became. She wasn’t nervous about the Boogeyman being on the other side of the table; her nervousness surrounding small talk was somehow the culprit still. Only his own constant reminders that her serenity was the key kept the Nightmare King from scowling.

She opened her mouth for a split second, then promptly closed it as she picked at the vegetables on her plate, much like the child Pitch could easily confuse her for. After staring the food down, Madeline raised her head to look at her guest across the table. “Are you…” she said, trailing off after the first few words. “Are you feeling better?”

[Absolutely not.] The words stopped in his throat, more from a distaste for admitting weakness than maintaining the plan. The incident of being passed through was bad enough, but Madeline’s lack of fear hadn’t made anything better. The fact that she was worrying about him was enough to conclude that, no, Pitch was decidedly not feeling any better at all.

He held his tongue.

“I… I was worried when you didn’t answer me when I came back…” the woman admitted. “I thought maybe you had disappeared or whatever it is you do…” She paused, the action accompanied by a blink. A flutter of minor panic passed through the emotional detection Pitch was connected to. “Sorry, sorry. I wanted to respect your privacy so I didn’t come in. Could you possibly agree to let me know when you do decide to leave? If that’s okay with you.”

Where had that respect for privacy been this morning? If anything, Madeline had a high misplacement error for what that phrase really meant. Pitch sighed in exasperation. And she wanted him to inform her of when he was leaving? He supposed he was her house guest, but her insistence was something he couldn’t possibly comprehend at this point.

“I promise you’ll know when I leave,” Pitch said with absolute conviction. If things went the way he wanted them to, which he was certain they would, she would _want_ him gone and he would be more than happy to comply with the idea. Let her be reassured by the words all she wanted, there was no way she would see the result at the end of the day coming.

In accordance to her mental state, Madeline smiled. Pitch didn’t need his abilities to tell what she was feeling when she showed off her emotions to a t. “Thank you, Pitch,” she said _(that’s the only time you’ll ever hear that, don’t get used to it)_ [but why did it make him waver so much if it was only] _(you’re pathetic)_, no longer giving that sad look to her dinner that had been present moments ago. “I’d say you’d be welcome to come back here whenever you like, but I’m sure immortals have better things to do than make house calls to adults whenever they feel like.”

She didn’t know how right she was. Except the fact that she wasn’t right anymore and Pitch didn’t have anything but his own motivation pushing him on to get out of here, because of nobody believed in him, there was no one to scare. The Boogeyman decided that it was best to leave that particular detail out of the conversation.

“That’s right, I’ll probably not return to this place,” Pitch said. It was more to confirm the fact with himself than to answer his question. Never mind where he would be going after this, because Pitch had no idea. In all his planning of ways to leave this house with some amount of power in his grasp, where would be his next stop hadn’t even been considered. The defeat had rattled him to a point where he was starting to lose his edge.

“I see.” Madeline looked crestfallen for a moment, but nodded in understanding. Her level of recovery rate to a stasis point of slightly more positive than neutral emotions was astounding, to say the least. “Well, until then, you are free to use my home in any way you like. I have to admit that it’s actually fun to have a housemate after living alone for all this time.”

Even if that housemate ended up being a subject of myth, and the Boogeyman at that. Pitch assumed that the reason he couldn’t comprehend her idea of “fun” had nothing to do with his lack of ability to perceive it and everything to do with the person who held the ideal.

Besides, he had no interest in following the conversation thread any longer. If she was serious in allowing him to use her home as he pleased, then the Nightmare King had heard the only thing that he needed to hear.

* * *

As expected, Madeline went to bed fairly early, apologizing for her sleeping habits through a yawn. Pitch assured her there was no need to apologize, having to work at keeping the excitement out of his voice. Without even thinking, Pitch took the ritual of turning out all the lights in the house on himself once Madeline had retreated behind her bedroom door. The act brought about memories of slinking in the shadows while parents put out the lights for children that would become his prey the very instant he could extinguish any and all nightlights that may be present.

The dark was almost a different story. Pitch’s enthusiasm flickered in and out as he was mentally pulled back to the corner in his own lair, buried away deep underground. It suddenly felt like the Nightmares would be present around any corner, even though the house was deathly quiet. But at the same time he had created the Nightmares to be perfectly silent until the moment when they were about to strike, so there was no guarantee that they weren’t present.

[This was exactly how the children felt when they went to bed, even when their parents told them there were no monsters anywhere, this was the moment that was the most fulfilling, the moment where there was nothing about absolute power for him, because everything was soaked in lovely _fear_]

This was ridiculous. Pitch wasn’t going to make any progress this way, and he was well aware of it. He refused to be inept at his own domain anymore. No matter what it took, he was not about to let an entire day’s worth of planning go to waste whenever there was no better moment to act than this one.

Pitch looked to the closest window, where the night sky was clear of all clouds, the moon and the stars casting a pale glow over the fields surrounding Madeline’s home, patches of snow providing an extra gleam in the darkness. He scowled, coating the window in shadows, eliminating the view and light that went with it. All the reminders [of Tsar Lunar, of that boy, of all of them] disappeared from sight, the anger at even relying on such things as a source of comfort enough for Pitch to squash the seed of fear inside him and move on through the house.

_This was his domain._ Nothing would take that away from him. With each window he covered up, Pitch felt himself adjusting back into what it was supposed to feel like. He had never been happy just sitting in the darkness, but he hadn’t been bothered by it either. After his encounter with fear, slipping back into the completeness of shadows was enough to make the darkened house feel comfortable.

Had Madeline even noticed? Pitch had centered his perception on himself, so none of the usual awareness of the woman was present as it had been for the past few days. Reaching back out, he sensed no fear. While it was true enclosing dark wasn’t enough for the average adult to be panicking, particularly when they were going to bed and darkness was to be expected, Pitch couldn’t help but be disappointed. He pushed that feeling off, reminding himself that there was still a chance, plenty of an opportunity to capture the fear he desired.

The darkness made it easier to move without making a sound. It was at it should be; Pitch was unable to tell if he was walking or simply sliding through the shadows. It felt so natural to be moving like this that it didn’t even matter. Madeline’s house was a quiet one, with no creaks and trees around to make noises to intrude onto sleep. That served just fine with him.

Without even thinking, Pitch seeped himself into the house. He could will creaks and bumps into existence, the sounds of movement in a home where only one person usually resided. The sounds reverberated inside him first before they reached out into his ears, and only Madeline would know the difference of when the sound truly began.

It took a few alterations of patterns before it yielded a reaction. Madeline was aware of his presence in the house, so anything he did would just sound like movement. That much was to be expected. Instead he would have to add in the extra work that would make the sounds come from different parts of the house, so he couldn’t be held accountable for them. It would have been easier if the building had a second floor built onto it, but that wasn’t the case. Regardless, pulling off the act was almost too simple to manage.

The rewarding small waves of panic were enough of a reward to encourage Pitch to continue on with the act. He slipped in and out of every corner of the house, simulating noises that had no real place holder within reality as it was. Not even Madeline’s overall low ratings of response were enough to discourage him, as disheartening as the response should have been.

For some reason, Pitch felt as if he should have known that this would have been the response, given all the evidence.

Madeline was far more adaptive to panic situations than Pitch would have thought, given her disposition. She had acted something close to a child, had even the right mentality to _believe_ in him despite everything, and Pitch had been expecting—_hoping_—that would have held true for her reactions. But instead of tottering on worry, or even taking the logical route of checking out the rest of the house to make sure there wasn’t anyone breaking in, Madeline did whatever it was she did (the only part of her thought process connected to fear that he _couldn’t_ sense) to calm herself down.

Frustration returning, the sounds slipped out of Pitch’s control for a moment, creating the sound of something crashing. Even though he reeled it back in, the temptation to let the sound release again was almost enough to give into. Madeline had almost no reaction aside from a flutter of a heartbeat, and then there was nothing. No fear. No panic. Not even a trace of concern. It was all gone.

Pitch finally emerged from the shadows, a silent entrance onto the floor of Madeline’s bedroom. Even though the room was still coated in darkness, he could see everything perfectly, if he cared to observe it close enough. His only focus was on Madeline, though, and her increasingly infuriating and pristine sleeping form.

The Boogeyman scowled, thankfully containing any noise of frustration that was on the verge of coming out. Although, it probably wouldn’t have mattered since the woman had been able to fall asleep through an entire commotion in her house. Her level of calmness and trusting was on a level borderline to disgusting. If he was going to properly gain an absolute victory in this battle, there was probably only one way to accomplish it.

Subconsciously, Pitch raised hand, almost enacting the order to call on the Nightmares, then stopped. The fact that he had even been able to consider such a thing was ludicrous. Even considering it seconds after the thought had occurred he felt off put. The confidence he had felt while beginning the escapade disappeared, the cloaking of darkness going with it. He wasn’t strong enough yet, and the realization rattled him more than anything else. All he was capable of was surviving a few scare shots in the dark, and they were ineffective at best. While it was a step towards improvement, it wasn’t good enough to warrant calling on the creatures that would surely consume him the instant that he summoned them, turn on him, repeat the same incident, except this time, Pitch was certain that he wouldn’t be able to escape.

Nightmares were the only way to win this battle _(and that’s a battle you have no chance of winning)_.

The thought followed him back into the guest room where Pitch sat and waited until morning.

* * *

Pitch left the house before Madeline woke up, using the control he had reasserted over the shadows to make the door appear as locked after he closed it. He hadn’t slept at all again, but it didn’t bother him as much as it had before. The house had resumed its silence after he had stopped to rest, and he had been able to stand closing the dusty curtains that took up residence over the window of his assigned room. The woods rested far enough away from the house that any sound made by the trees intertwining with themselves and each other wasn’t noticeable.

Nothing could be mistaken for the idea of Nightmares coming after him. That was a relaxing enough thought, even if he still didn’t understand why.

The same held true as Pitch made his way to the barn in the fading night sky. Maybe his absence would be enough to rile Madeline up and make her easier to scare. If not, the locked door assured him some privacy and spared him the tension that would have resulted from having to share a meal with her once again. Even if it wasn’t particularly stressful, just watching her show off no signs of fear would only get his blood boiling again.

And that had been the mistake, he realized. Pitch hadn’t even realized he still possessed the ability to make rash decisions anymore. Everything had been one cold, calculated and drawn out move after the next, biding his time throughout centuries, waiting until the exact right moment at which to act for the maximum rate of success. He had always been like that. The last night had been ineffective and made up of spur of the moment decisions.

How could he not have realized it sooner? _(You must be really desperate)_

That would not be a mistake he would repeat again. In fact, while thinking it over throughout the night, just focusing on Madeline was a great mistake in itself. She was only one source of fear, and an unreliable one at that. But this place gave access to others in its workers, even if they were all adults. The optimal condition would be to interact with the children that were supposed to frequent this place, but if there was any chance a group stopping by, Pitch had yet to hear of it.

As disappointing as it was, the adults would have to do.

Madeline arrived at the barn first, a small sliver of worry embedded in her chest that was more energizing than any meal she could prepare for him. Pitch stayed in the shadows as she passed by and into the door, keeping watch by the entrance. The other workers arrived in time, driving up in their various vehicles and carrying the usual mundane worries of adults within their hearts.

They were easier to zone in on than Madeline was, given her capacity to immediately retract from negative emotional stimuli. In contrast, the minor worries and panics seeped out of the barn quite nicely, giving Pitch an extra boost to his slowly growing power supply. Bills to pay, whether their work performance was up to date, and even the safety of a few of the workers’ children—all things that Pitch had never paid mind to—were suddenly the boost he needed to execute the events of the day successfully.

The daylight would definitely serve as a disadvantage, as his abilities had adjusted to match up with humanity’s natural capacity of being scared more easily in the dark, in the unknown. The fact that they were adults was an extra barrier, but Pitch would have to improvise. At the very least, all of the workers seemed to be within the same age range as Madeline, give or take a few years, although if that had much of an effect, Pitch would have to find out soon enough.

He waited until he could hear the sounds of horses being guided out of the barn and into the field Pitch had first arrived in. Even though it was illogical, it seemed necessary to wait until the horses were gone from the barn to even attempt getting close. The Boogeyman ignored the constricting feeling in his chest when a few of the horses started whinnying and slipped under the cracks beneath the doors to enter the barn.

The lighting made it hard to stay completely under cover, given how the lights hanging from the ceiling seemed to invade every corner of the room with their presence. It wouldn’t have been so much of an issue if Madeline didn’t insist on bustling in and out of the room between the upper floors and the outside, calling out orders and requests for help.

After considering it for some time, Pitch decided to deal with each of the workers one at a time. He connected himself to the shadow of one, an unfamiliar male—their potential names were lost on him—reading through his worries. It took some experimenting, as he was still unused to dealing with adults in these situations, but soon Pitch was spending his energy on enhancing the man’s anxieties from a small buzz in the back of his brain to a persistent thought.

It was more exhausting then it should have been, and Pitch let his own handiwork give him the energy necessary for recovery. Once he was satisfied with the results, the Boogeyman left his initial target behind and moved on to the next one. The process came easier the second time, and the time after that, and for the rest of the workers at the horse farm, excluding the head of the operation.

Pitch felt stronger than he had at his arrival, even more so than during his active phase the previous night. Halfway through the morning, the Boogeyman had been able to work up the staff’s anxiety levels to where they were jumpy at best, some even making mistakes in their work that Pitch could tell with his limited understanding of their jobs.

That was all the encouragement he needed. From there, all he needed was a few extra pushes. The daylight’s presence didn’t matter anymore, and neither did their usual feelings of being comfortable in their own work place. A few well timed bumps in the horse’s empty stalls, supplies falling over for no apparent reason—it proved that adults were just as easy to scare at children, given the right conditions.

Once the group lunch break arrived, all of the workers were bristling with anxiety as they sat down in the break room on the second level of the barn complex. Madeline was the only one not in such a state, having decided to join her workers at the lunch table in opposition to yesterday. If anything, Pitch’s apparent absence from the house gave her enough time to prepare her food ahead of time and relieved her from the responsibility of taking care of him.

Pitch found a nice shadow spot under the table, right in the center of all the emotional turmoil. Now that he was close enough, the Boogeyman had a better sense of the unease that his actions were causing for Madeline as well, her concern for her employees creating a resonating pool of power around the table.

They were even _talking_ about him. Well, it wasn’t specifically him, but his actions were close enough to being him to increase Pitch’s confidence higher. He would take being mistaken for a ghost if that meant they acknowledged his presence. He almost considered revealing himself, but knew that no matter what, they still wouldn’t see him.

“What about you, Boss? See anything weird this morning?” the other young woman at the table finally asked. The entire workforce, small in numbers as they were, shot their focus to Madeline, who seemed to exude an anxiety that no one else picked up on.

“No, I didn’t see anything,” Madeline said. No one else but Pitch seemed to pick up on the nervousness and hesitation in her tone. Had she figured it out already? Even if she had, Pitch highly doubted she would say anything. The worry of being doubted by her employees maintained itself in her consciousness, enough to let Pitch know that despite her usual calmness, she could be broken down, too.

Everything was almost perfect. If he kept this up, Pitch was certain he could properly recover by leaching of the horse farm’s anxiety over the course of a few days. Once that was accomplished, even dealing with Madeline would be a simple task, and then he could leave this place and the entire episode would be behind him.

There was only one problem. While his plan had been good to start, he had been severely limiting himself by avoiding the field where the horses had been let out to. What would happen when there was no one in the safe little bubble of the barn for him to feed off of, when the horses came back in and invaded his security? That would set him back enough as it was, let alone undo his constant connections that would have to be rebuilt. It would be a waste of time and resources.

There was no more point in keeping up this pointless aversion. Normal horses were _nothing_ like Nightmares, so there was no reason to be afraid of them. It was all unnatural, and Pitch slipped downstairs through the shadows, solidifying himself for the first time in hours once he reached the door. There was a moment of hesitation that Pitch would never admit to before he finally opened it, revealing the early spring view of the field.

He flinched at the sight of them, but that was all. They were just horses after all, _not_ his own creations that had turned on him and captured him, fed off his fear and secluded him underground. There was nothing they could do to hurt them. Steeling himself, Pitch took a few steps forward, heading in the direction of the very horse he had ran into when he had arrived.

And once again he found himself on the ground, except this time the sound of the Nightmare in front of him was very, very real.


	5. Chapter Four: Distress

**Strength**

By: Aviantei

Chapter Four: Distress

* * *

In that moment, Pitch was certain that it had all been for nothing, that there had been no point in working to scare Madeline, to scare the rest of the workers, not if it was going to end like this. In fact, trying to build his strength back up had been the worst possible thing he could have done. Of _course_ the Nightmares would come, be attracted to the fear that was close by. Their losing him had only been a fluke, and there was nothing safe about staying here at all, not when it had just been a figment of his imagination.

_(This is what you get for thinking that you could possibly ever get back what you had lost. This is what you get for even trying. This is what you get for being content, because you should _know_ by now that the world is never going to treat you fairly, no matter how hard you try)_

The Nightmare stared at him, acknowledging that its presence was enough to scare him, that it didn’t need to do anything else to get what it wanted. Pitch could feel himself growing weaker with each second, could almost see the Nightmare getting stronger as it drank its fill of the fear presented to it. While it was entirely possible that the Fearling would leave, there was also the possibility that it would recognize its former master, and call on the others to resume the hunt that they had already failed once.

Pitch wasn’t about to take that chance.

He found the last of the energy he had and channeled it to his legs, running off in the direction of the barn doors he had left open. Pitch didn’t bother closing the doors behind him, knowing that it would only be a waste of time, and the Nightmare would be on him if he took the time to do so. He would just have to hope that he could run fast enough again, and maybe the creature would lose its interest.

He knew the chances of that were low. Running away was a key indicator of fear, and the Nightmare would latch onto that response, chasing him down as long as it took. Sure enough, the sound of horse hooves on wood was there before Pitch even made it to the opposite door. He kept running even if it was useless, even if he would still be caught in mere seconds and then—

Madeline was there, halfway down the stairs, leaving her lunch break. She seemed to be alone, and the familiar vibration of shock that resonated out from her found its way to Pitch, registering amongst the rest of his fear as something completely different. It was amazing how different the two sensations felt to him—his own terror, a hindrance; hers, a source of relief—even though they had the same exact source.

Pitch wanted to say something, but didn’t know what would possibly come out his mouth on the off chance that he _could_ produce some form of sound. Madeline acted first, saving him the trouble, running out between the two Fearling creations, stopping the Nightmare in its tracks. Pitch couldn’t do anything besides gape, and the Nightmare reared up, whinnying loudly, its ethereal sound echoing inside the barn.

She wasn’t afraid, and Pitch would bet that the Nightmare was just as confused as he was. Madeline only stared the distorted horse down, not giving a single inch. The Nightmare tried to move around her to get to Pitch, but Madeline intercepted its path before it could even give a single inch, rapping it on the nose in the process. The only explanation possible was that she didn’t understand what she was dealing with, and that ignorance could only be effective for so long.

Without even thinking about it, Pitch ran again.

This time he succeeded in making it through the door, the spring shutting it behind him with no effort on his part. He expected the Nightmare to give chase, to hear it whinny behind him, to slip through the wall that would take no effort for it to pass through, but it never came. Either Madeline was holding it off, or it had lost interest. Most likely Madeline had given up and provided a more convenient source of fear.

So then why couldn’t Pitch feel anything like that? His senses weren’t deluded so much that he couldn’t sense other’s fear—the parallel sensation still fresh in his memory—and surely the amount of fear a Nightmare could cause would be great enough to sense from even this distance. Could she honestly not be afraid at all?

It took Pitch until he had settled back into Madeline’s living room to have his fear subside to frustration. He didn’t even bother to berate himself for coming back to this place when the Nightmare could easily find him then. First the woman had the gall to not be afraid of him, and now _this_? Pitch had spent days trying to get over his reaction, and Madeline could easily brush the natural reaction off. Was he not supposed to be the _Nightmare_ King?

_(You’re nothing, you’re washed up. Just get it over with. You don’t deserve your title anymore, so just let them come and catch you and)_

“Pitch, are you here?” The Boogeyman jumped; he had been so caught up in thought that the sound of the door opening was completely lost on him. Madeline came into the living room, her worried expression dissolving once she saw him. “There you are,” she said. “Are you feeling alright? I could make some tea for you if you like… Oh, did you eat the lunch I left for you?”

Everything Pitch wanted to say he kept from leaving his mouth. Venting his frustrations would more than likely result in being asked to leave, even if that wasn’t a guarantee with Madeline. Even so, Pitch was not willing to take the chance _(because you’re afraid)_ when there was a Nightmare in close proximity.

“No, I did not,” Pitch answered. He decided to leave out what he was doing instead, especially since she wouldn’t ask anyway. Madeline only frowned slightly, her hand gesturing for him to follow her into the kitchen.

“Well that’s no good.” Sure enough, upon entering the kitchen there was a note left on the table. Madeline released him once she walked past the piece of furniture, and she moved on to the refrigerator. According to the note, that was where the supposed lunch was. Madeline pulled out the dish in question, settling it into the microwave, pulling out the ingredients necessary for tea while the timer ticked down. “Sorry about what happened earlier. I didn’t expect a horse to just show up like that... it wasn’t one of ours, that’s for sure.”

_How unaware can she possibly—?_ Pitch held his tongue. What good was there to explaining something that didn’t even matter anymore? And in the end, if he explained what it was and could actually make her understand, he would have to admit his own reaction to the situation. Those feelings were ones that he fully intended to keep to himself.

“Well, at least wherever he came from, he has an owner,” Madeline commented. Pitch looked at her, even though her back was turned. As such, she was completely oblivious to his expression. “Once I started to discipline him a little, he backed down. I wonder what worked him up so much, though, he didn’t seem scared…” She inhaled, unpracticed in talking so much. “I hope we can find his owner. I don’t mind keeping him out of the cold in the barn, but he can’t stay here forever…”

“You did _what_?” Pitch said, breaking his silence. Madeline looked back to him over her shoulder, turning back to the microwave once it signaled that the food inside was significantly warm.

“I put him into an empty stall in the stables.” She picked the plate out of the microwave, bringing it over to the table and set it down in front of Pitch. He ignored the food, staring at the woman. “Even if he had training, they didn’t get him tagged. I can’t just let him wander around on his own like that. He might get hurt… is that so wrong?”

At last, she finally seemed to pick up on Pitch’s expression, looking at him with concern. The only acceptable part of this situation was that she was worried about her own actions instead of pitying him again. “For someone that can see more than others, you certainly don’t put it to good use,” Pitch said.

Madeline frowned slightly, but headed back to the beginnings of her tea making anyway. “What do you mean?”

“What do I mean?” Pitch repeated. “Did you not look at that ‘horse’ at all? You honestly can’t tell me that it didn’t seem the slightest bit unnatural to you. Maybe its eyes, the way its body was shaped? I have a hard time believing that someone who works with horses for a living wouldn’t find it strange that when you touched it, it felt like _sand_.” He almost hissed the last word, bringing Madeline to a pause.

“So I wasn’t seeing things then…” she said, almost to herself. The woman focused on assembling the contents of the teacup, returning to the table once it was secure in the microwave. Madeline hesitated before sitting down. “I was actually worried that maybe this was some sort of trick, but it’s not… I’m guessing that you know what that horse actually was then?”

Pitch nodded before he could stop himself. There was no point in hiding it if she was going to ask about it straight forwardly. “I do. It’s a creature called a Nightmare.”

Madeline only nodded to signal her understanding, eliminating a verbal confirmation. Pitch tried to think of a good place to start, but felt the words catch in his throat. There was a block preventing him from saying anything, simple as that. It was the sort of block he had created in others, making them dislike a stimulus to a point that even talking about it would cause a reminder, give them difficulty in functioning, _give him fear_. The failure to speak was because the thought of the Nightmare stopped him.

[It’s a perfectly rational response, talking about them summons them, worry draws them in—]

It was a response that the Nightmare King had always looked forward to, because he didn’t need to be present in order to benefit from it. Being off put by just the mention of it was a true fear, one that ran a line between him and the child, sending a resonating wave between them anytime the fear was encountered. It could even affect them well into adulthood, and it was a fear well worth fostering.

_(Do you realize just how afraid you are?)_

“It’s a special type of Fearling, one that, as its name suggests, affects dreams. Fearlings are creatures that thrive on fear, create it, and are thus my domain,” Pitch said. He added in the extra explanation to appease the furrow in Madeline’s eyebrows. Her curiosity was still there, and Pitch could see the question coming, could imagine it forming on her lips. [She’ll want to know why it’s after you, then, why you _ran_] “The one you encountered was an unruly one. It needs to be dealt with, not housed in a barn that isn’t even necessary to its survival.”

He had managed to create a satisfactory enough lie. If Madeline wanted to sacrifice clarity for not being nosy, then that was only to Pitch’s benefit in this situation. If she took the secondary bait, he could probably convince the woman to let the Nightmare go under the guise that it could cause potential harm to her workers. Even if that was true, it wasn’t the real reason [it needs to be gone].

Madeline seemed to be processing the information, and came out with a small smile in the end. It was infuriating, but Pitch let it go. “Well, that sure explains why everyone looked at me strange whenever I told them to take care of the horse in the extra stall,” she said. Pitch was once again baffled by just how little Madeline seemed to notice was going on around her.

At least that explained the small sensation his senses were responding to. The Nightmare had been draining him, so it had been hard to feel anything other than Madeline. Now, away from its presence, he could feel the traces of fear leaking from the barn. While most of the fear he had worked up in the horse farm staff was being taken in by the Nightmare’s presence, there were still the faint traces of concern for their boss floating around.

“Well, at least things will work out okay,” Madeline continued. “I guess that Nightmare is your responsibility, then. I don’t like the idea of just putting him down, but I really don’t have much of a say in supernatural affairs, huh? I’ll let you do what you need to. Now, come on, Pitch, there’s no point in having me heat up the food if you don’t intend to eat it.”

Pitch looked back down to the plate he had completely forgotten just to avoid having to see Madeline’s smile. He considered telling her he didn’t _need_ to eat, but doubted she would care. He had indulged her in meals for this long, might as well keep up the act for a little bit longer.

He didn’t really pay attention to what it tasted like [he hardly ever used his taste buds anymore, after all], but he couldn’t deny that it helped more than he considered. The immortal part of him had learned to sustain itself without food, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t pleasant. The effects of having something solid in his stomach took hold, improving his outlook slightly.

It wasn’t as if everything was fixed. But Pitch felt slightly energized, even if it was more psychological than anything. The food made him feel a certain sense of warmth, and so did the tea that Madeline had finished preparing while the Boogeyman ate his fill. Even the woman’s smile, completely void of pity, seemed to play a part, but Pitch quickly dismissed the thought as residual delirium of the fear.

Finally, when she had cleared the table and was adding the dishes to the sink, Madeline broke the comfortable silence, “Are you going to stay through tonight, too?”

The question was enough to catch Pitch off guard. He hadn’t intended to stay, but his intentions hadn’t been very reliable predictors as of late. And he certainly couldn’t leave and expect the Nightmare not to notice, expect it not to follow, to call the others. If it was content to remain in the barn and Madeline could tame it, then the woman’s home was the only reasonable place to be.

“Yes,” he answered, surprising himself with how natural the words sounded. “I am.”

“Well if that’s the case, I’m going to have to go into town for a bit.” The connecting factor was lost on Pitch, and he didn’t need to wait long for the explanation. “To be honest, cooking for both of us has drained my supplies a bit… I need to go to the store, care to come?”

He would never admit that it was her smile and not the logic behind it that made him go.

* * *

Madeline hadn’t needed to be prompted, and she went to retrieve her vehicle without an offer for Pitch to come along. He didn’t know if she could tell he didn’t want to get close to the Nightmare, let alone the motivations, but he wasn’t going to complain. She stopped her truck—out of all the vehicles, he hadn’t expected that one to be hers—on the stretch of dirt road before the house and opened the door to the Boogeyman before setting off on the drive towards town.

The comfortable silence would have still been there were it not for the soft volume of the radio taking up sound space. Even so, the calm feeling that Pitch had experienced persisted, smoothing out his frayed nerves the more distance that was put between them and where the Nightmare was.

She went to Burgess, the streets painstakingly familiar for the one night that Pitch had spent there. It was still during school hours, so at least there was no chance of encountering the familiar faces of the children he had seen then _(the ones that rejected you)_. Before he could get too lost in thought, Madeline pulled the truck to a stop, and stepped out into the parking lot of a grocery store that Pitch hadn’t even realized they had arrived at.

It was only on autopilot that he followed. After all, sitting out in the car wouldn’t do anything, despite the cold. However, being alone would give him time to think, which wasn’t something Pitch felt like doing. The inside of the store itself was relatively quiet, so long as you ignored the music from the radio in the background.

How foreign it felt surprised him. The last time Pitch had bothered to go anywhere near human food stock, marketplaces had been the norm, with individual stands selling their specialties. If he ever did desire to eat, he would stop by a restaurant, usually scaring a few kids along the way. Being inside a modern store was completely different. Now everything came from one building, sectioned off into rows and contained within boxes.

Madeline grabbed a cart, looking over the deals displayed at the front of the store, picking out a few things, then heading towards the aisles. Checking out at one of the registers was a woman carrying her baby. Pitch looked away before he could tell if the child could see him or not.

“So what would you like for dinner, Pitch?” she asked, pausing by the fruits. Pitch could only stare as Madeline carefully looked over individual apples, checking for bruises. He didn’t say anything, even after she filled up an entire bag and placed it gently in the cart. Finally, she raised her eyes to meet his. “Is something wrong?”

“What do you think you’re doing?” Pitch hissed. It wasn’t necessary for him to be quiet, but at least one of them should be in this situation. Sure enough, Madeline only blinked, an obvious confusion marked on her face. “You do understand that no one else can see me, right?” The words hurt to say, but Pitch was too worked up to care.

“And your point?”

She had said it without even hesitating. It was clear that she wasn’t thinking things through at all, and Pitch found himself questioning her intelligence for more than the first time. She wasn’t even retracting her statement after the look that he was giving her.

“My point,” Pitch said, a laborious effort that he couldn’t bring himself to hide appearing in his voice, “is that _you_ are the only one that can see me. _You_ are also the only one that can hear me. If you insist on talking to me normally, then others are going to presume you’re talking to yourself. I shouldn’t have to explain that this could be troublesome for you.”

Much to his chagrin, Madeline only shrugged. “I don’t see what the big deal is, though,” she said, and the amount of _sincerity_ in her voice was almost stifling. “Sure, others can’t see you and they won’t get who I’m talking to, but does that mean that I should treat you like any less of a person? Pretending like you don’t exist would only be rude.”

For some reason, Pitch’s mouth was dry. “And if they ask you who you’re talking to?”

“I’ll tell them the truth.” She only paused for seconds, but the impact made it seem like it lasted longer. “There’s a big chance that they won’t believe me, and I recognize that. But what if I could convince them you were around? Who knows, maybe they’d believe in you, too.”

The way she said it almost made Pitch believe it was possible. Madeline believed it, so there was no reason for him not to believe it, too. Wasn’t belief at the center of everything? It was so real it was tempting, the idea that a few explanations and talks could make him visible to others. If it worked he wouldn’t need to be in this state, he wouldn’t need to fight the Guardians, he wouldn’t need to be _afraid_—

_(Get a hold of yourself)_

Pitch instantly scowled, and Madeline’s smile dropped in concern. “That’s not going to happen,” the Boogeyman said, rejecting the premise. If he didn’t get his hopes up then he couldn’t be disappointed. “Belief isn’t something that can be inspired that easily. If you try to present it logically to someone, you’d more than likely make them believe you even less.”

Madeline frowned, crestfallen. She picked herself back up quickly enough, though, not quite smiling but not quite sad, either. “If that’s the case, I guess there’s no point in trying to force it, huh?” For a moment, Pitch thought she would disagree, until he remembered that naturally she was going to take his word for it. “Despite that, I’m still going to speak to you normally. It’s a slow day, anyway, plus it’d be rude to be secretive when talking to you. We are friends after all.”

_Friends._ Pitch hadn’t even considered the word, so he didn’t know how to respond to it. Madeline took his silence as consent, pushing the cart down the aisle and out of the produce section. It was an abrupt end to the conversation, but it could have concluded on a worse note. Not wanting to be passed through by any other shoppers, Pitch followed, the woman’s words refusing to leave him.

* * *

Pitch hadn’t put much thought into shopping, only providing answers whenever Madeline prompted him. After all, his unintentional avoidance of food prevented him from having a good basis to form an opinion of. Despite how arbitrary his choices were, dinner was still palatable, after which Madeline went to bed and Pitch retreated to the guest room.

He had even less of a desire to sleep now, with a Nightmare being so close, even though this could have been a time he might have actually needed it. The past few days had been stressful to a point that even his immortality didn’t want to keep up with, his drooping eyelids attempting to convince him to sleep. And while it may have been useful for building up his strength, Pitch adamantly refused.

What Madeline had said was still bothering him. Never before had someone bothered to consider him a friend. It wasn’t necessary; someone like the Nightmare King didn’t _need_ friends, shouldn’t have had the capacity to _make_ friends. By human standards, it was even more confusing. After all, housing someone and sharing meals for them didn’t make you friends, _especially_ if the someone in question wasn’t even human.

She was clearly projecting how she felt onto him. If she wanted to consider him a friend, _fine_, that would be her own mistake. He just needed to make sure that she didn’t think that he shared the sentiment. After all Pitch had never had a friend before and he didn’t intend to start now, not after the boy—

_(Just go ahead and try to open your heart up to someone again. Try it and see what happens)_

Outside of the window, he could see the cloud of dream sand moving towards Burgess, a beacon of the Guardians in the middle of the night. In frustration, Pitch yanked the blinds shut, threatening to pull them down with the amount of force he used.

There had to be something he could do. He couldn’t stand being here any longer, not with reminders of what he was and what he wasn’t appearing at every instance. He needed to tame the Nightmare, get it back under his control. And to do that, he would need to build up his strength again.

He needed to break her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Sylphidine_Gallimaufry for the kudos and bookmark!


	6. Chapter Five: Caution

**Strength**

By: Aviantei

Chapter Five: Caution

* * *

This time, Pitch put more thought into his efforts. While his last attempts to scare Madeline had been worthless, they had still been a learning experience. The woman seemed to be lacking an ordinary fear instinct, so the normal tactics wouldn’t work. In addition, she was still an adult, even when her behavior suggested otherwise, so he would need to revise methods that were intended for children. Finally, she knew who he was, so being direct wasn’t going to get him anywhere either. His new strategy would have to take those things into consideration.

_(After all, you’re definitely used to trying again after failure, aren’t you?)_

Pitch stayed up the night, his new goal keeping him awake. He took care not to rush things, thinking through the effects and consequences of each new plan as much as he could. Experience let him keep his thoughts categorized without writing anything down. He was a planner, a thinker, and he could use that.

He answered her call to breakfast before dawn, sitting at the table. Despite it being so early, Madeline’s mind was already filled with concerns as she bustled around the kitchen. Pitch focused on those—the usual homeowner and worker’s concerns, the state of the barn after hosting a Nightmare, concern for Pitch’s wellbeing—mundane as they were, they were a starting point.

Clueless to his actions, Madeline prepared breakfast as usual, keeping to silence. After a few nervous green-eyed glances in Pitch’s direction, she spoke up. “So what would you like to do for lunch today?” she asked, a small laugh following the words. “I know yesterday you said you didn’t really have preferences, but I guess I’m more concerned about company. I can either eat with you, or make you something if you want to be alone.”

For a moment, she was more perceptive than usual. Pitch wrote it off as a fluke. While his behavior had adjusted a small amount from before, it shouldn’t have been enough to cause concern, even if she considered him a friend. After all, she didn’t have a large enough sample of his activity to be making assumptions like that.

_Friends._ That word made things complicated. Pitch would have to keep his distance. Madeline’s nature led the Boogeyman to believe she would be forgiving to a fault—even if he was trying to terrorize her, she still would accept him. He would need to be cautious in how he treated her.

“I wouldn’t object to eating together,” he allowed anyway. Despite all of that, his powers still worked best in close proximity. If he talked the right way, he could stir up her anxieties without her even noticing what he was doing. Conversation could serve as a way of information gathering as well.

Staying close without becoming too close. Pitch was a being of the shadows. Being close without being noticed was what he was _made_ for.

Madeline smiled, turning back to her cooking. “Alright, I’ll just make lunch later then,” she said. The dishes clinked as she set them out, starting to fill them up along the way. Some of her anxieties ebbed a little bit—not too much to be trouble for Pitch, but just a little. Long ago, he had learned that sensation was a sense of relief, even if he didn’t gain anything from it.

He waited for the meal he didn’t need to eat, focusing instead on what would benefit him more. The woman’s worries were enough to get him kickstarted, and he resonated the feeling with her. He was a conduit for fear, taking it in, increasing the anxieties a little and then sending the feeling right back. It would take time, but it would make her worries gradually increase.

If Pitch did it right, Madeline wouldn’t even notice.

The woman sat down across from him, not showing any effects just yet. She still smiled when she handed him his plate and tea mug, still seemed satisfied as she fed herself. Pitch picked at his own food at a much slower pace, not even registering the taste. It was probably the most he had ever eaten in her presence, and Madeline smiled.

As always, they avoided small talk. Pitch didn’t mind—managing her fear was delicate work, and the silence brought focus, even if her radio was still making quiet noise in the corner of the room. In time, like the other mornings, Madeline stood up first.

“I’m going to head to the barn now,” she said. Her voice was familiar for only having done this twice before, too familiar. That made it even more unsettling. “I’ll see you around lunchtime, alright, Pitch?” There was a tone of expectance in the words.

Pitch didn’t want to say anything. The room suddenly felt stifling. But Madeline was looking at him with her eyes widened more than usual, and the cord of nervousness connecting them made it more than obvious what she was waiting for.

“I’ll see you around lunchtime,” he agreed, and the excitement in his tone had nothing to do with the way she took it.

* * *

He kept his focus on maintaining the connection between himself and Madeline, the nervousness creeping closer to anxiety by the minute. Ideally, he would have followed the woman around in the shadows, but that wasn’t an option today. The Nightmare’s presence was confirmed as Pitch stopped gaining as much power from her worries as before—the damn horse was still there, contented, and it was benefitting from Madeline the same way its former master was.

It was pathetic, but Pitch wasn’t ready yet.

_But I am getting stronger,_ he reasoned. _I’m working on it, and once this succeeds, it won’t be able to stand up to me. It’s better to hold off on battles you’re not ready for._

_(You’re still scared out of your mind, admit it.)_

Pitch also connected a small series of threads to her staff as they arrived. Their worry over their boss had yet to subside, and while he didn’t cultivate their emotions as much as he did Madeline’s, it was still a nice source in the background. It helped. It made him feel stronger, regardless of it was real or psychological.

And furthermore, who cared which one it was?

Madeline came back for lunch looking far more tired than she should have. She wasn’t on the verge of sleep, but her eyes seemed less alert, her shoulders down the slightest degree. They were little things, but the subtlety became more powerful in Pitch’s eyes; after all, with changes so small his planned pacing was just right.

She asked less questions about the food as she cooked it than usual, the wait for lunch passing mostly in silence. Pitch adjusted their connection, making sure the nervousness didn’t become anxiety too quickly. He finished around the time Madeline set out their plates—some chicken dish Pitch registered on the minimum levels of awareness—and settled down to eat herself.

“How have things been today?” Pitch asked. Madeline started a bit, and the peas she had scooped up spilling out of her spoon. They landed back on her plate, so there wasn’t a mess, but Madeline frowned nonetheless. Pitch pressed on, hoping conversation would help to gauge her state of mind better. “Are you feeling alright?”

“O-oh, I’m fine,” Madeline managed. Pitch would have raised an eyebrow if he had one, but the expression still seemed to have made it across anyway. “I’m _fine_,” the woman repeated. “Everyone has just been so quiet today. It’s a lot less conversation than usual, so I wasn’t prepared for it.”

“I see.” He wondered how much of that was true and how much was serving as cover. He hadn’t been there, so he couldn’t say otherwise.

Madeline cleared her throat. “But other than that, things have been going fine. Everything’s running smoothly and we’ve got some requests for visits starting to come in. Business should be profitable once the weather starts to warm up so…” She shrugged. “I guess you found some way to keep yourself busy?”

Pitch nodded. “I have. You have plenty of books, and I have several things that I need to consider at this time.”

“Yeah, I guess there’s probably a lot of work put into being the Boogeyman that parents don’t even consider when they tell their kids he doesn’t exist.” Madeline let out a weak laugh, and Pitch grimaced. The joke didn’t hurt, but it was still frustrating to hear. The woman didn’t notice, though, starting to fidget with the neckline of her sweater. “So, is this because of you or the Nightmare?” she asked.

“You’re going to have to be clearer than that,” Pitch answered, surprised at the smoothness of the words coming out of his own mouth. She had caught him off guard, but he had still reacted without even thinking about it. “I’m afraid I can’t answer your question otherwise.”

Madeline jumped, her eyes not meeting his, just another sign at how much of an effect his work was having on her. The woman’s fingers eventually stilled but didn’t move from her neck. “This feeling that I have,” she whispered. “It’s different than yesterday. I was startled then, but this isn’t shock. I feel worried, but I don’t know about what.” Madeline looked up, meeting Pitch’s eyes. “I usually don’t feel this way so I was wondering if it was an effect of being in your presence for so long.”

Pitch still couldn’t comprehend it. She had been able to put together all the pieces, only to come to the wrong conclusion. Did she really not want to blame him? Couldn’t she tell that it was on purpose and not some accident?

[Can’t she just acknowledge that it’s me?]

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Pitch scolded, his voice sharper than he had expected. Madeline jumped again, her eyes wary. “It’s true that being around me can cause the lowest tiers of fear to manifest and build up over time. The same is true of the Nightmares. However, you haven’t been around me or the horse long enough to be affected at the levels you’re displaying now, even if you were normal and displayed understandable fear responses.”

Her eyes widened a little more with each sentence that dropped from his lips. Whatever she was feeling beyond her earlier anxiety, Pitch couldn’t feel it. Her fear responses hadn’t changed, though, so she probably hadn’t realized the extent of the implications he was providing. Pitch’s usual frown deepened into more of a scowl.

[So much for caution.]

“Put it _together_,” he emphasized. “Honestly, surely you know your own emotions well enough to _understand_ what’s happening.”

Madeline’s head dropped down, leaving the woman to stare at her lap. Pitch waited through her silence. Would she cry? The woman looked like she could break down into tears at any second, but the Nightmare King was unsure. Would it be better if she did? He couldn’t decide.

“So this isn’t natural…” she whispered, not looking up. A spark of anxiety ran through Pitch’s connection to her, stronger than before. “I don’t normally feel like this, and nothing in my normal life should have caused it, so…” Somehow, she had the courage to look the Boogeyman in the eyes. “This is on purpose.” Her voice shook. “So like I asked earlier…

“Is this from you or the Nightmare?”

Pitch didn’t break eye contact. If Madeline was going to cry, she didn’t have any tears forming yet. “If the Nightmare is affecting you, I’m unaware,” he said, voice far calmer than hers. “After all, it doesn’t respond to me anymore, so I can’t read it directly. However, it is at the very least reaping the benefits of my building up of your anxiety.”

Madeline fell silent again, most likely having gone back into thought. Pitch wondered just how much she would be able to put together and how much would need to be explained. True, he had given her an answer, but would she understand all of it? Part of him, the part that craved her fear more than anything, hoped she didn’t understand so he could make it all the worse by [any excuse, any excuse at all] making her understand.

“So then it is you,” Madeline said, breaking the silence. She gripped a little tighter onto her sweater, a micro movement that Pitch only perceived because it revealed how bothered she was. “I guess I can’t really expect an answer, but I can still try to ask why. After all, it’s not like I’m a child.”

_(Just like you wanted, huh?)_

“I already told you about the other supernatural creatures within this world,” Pitch started. He would have continued even if she didn’t, but a nod from Madeline spurred him on. “Some of them are like me, ones that cause the negative things, ones that hurt people by just existing. And then there are those that cause good. Out of those there is a group that particularly likes to…_limit_ the influence I have on humans, especially children.”

Pitch grimaced at the thought of the Guardians. It would be easier to cut most of the story short. “Due to recent events, they have made it so that I will have very little effect if any at all on the children. As a result, my strength has decreased dramatically. I need fear to get it back. Right now, you’re the only person in the world that _bothers_ to acknowledge my existence. You’re the easiest supply for what I need.”

Any sense of restraint had disappeared. Madeline’s good will had been gnawing at him constantly, and there was no point in indulging it anymore. It would be better to spell it all out, to play it up in such a way that would increase her fear. If she was going to find out anyway, this was the best approach to handling it.

_(You’re a fool)_

“The…only person?” she repeated. Of course, leave it to her to focus on that detail. The piteous look in her eyes came back after the words. The woman had to feel sorry for him, probably the only person in the world that bothered with _that_ particular feat either. “I mean, you are just a myth to most people, but children are afraid of you. That’s just a fact of life. It has to count for being believed in, doesn’t it?”

Pitch scowled, enough for Madeline to flinch. “I just _told_ you, didn’t I?” he said, the words ripping out of his throat. At this rate, he would be growling in no time. “That doesn’t _exist_ anymore. They got rid of the idea of me even _existing_ at all for most children. If I don’t _exist_ then there’s nothing to be _afraid_ of.”

He could have kept that to himself. Madeline was clueless, knowing nothing of their world. He could have just accepted that fact and moved on. If he hadn’t needed to explain who he was the other day, he could have been leeching fear off her and she wouldn’t have known better. She didn’t even need to know this, just how _(weak)_ he really was, but it was too late, and the look in her eyes didn’t change at all.

“Why are you so obsessed with me being afraid of you?” Madeline asked, her voice low. She sounded far calmer now, the way people did once they had realized something important. The uncertainty in her shrunk the tiniest amount, but not entirely. “Are you honestly trying to scare away the only person you think that believes in you?”

“You don’t understand anything, even after I’ve gone through all the trouble of explaining it to you,” Pitch snapped. He had been maintaining his calm well, but he was tired of this. Why did she have to be so _infuriating_ about everything? Through gritted teeth, he tried again. “I need your fear. Otherwise I am powerless. _That_ is what I am trying to accomplish, you foolish woman.”

Madeline’s fear flickered in the edges of his awareness, but Pitch didn’t bother to read it in detail.

_(You just can’t stand it because she _still_ isn’t matching up to your expectations. What a sore loser)_

He wondered if he had managed to get through to her, make her realize. It didn’t matter if that awareness would ruin his planning, if it would make her reject him. He was tired of Madeline, tired of having her not react the way she was supposed to, _tired_ of having to _rely_ on her presence because the woman really _was_ the only person he had to gain his strength back from.

“You’re not powerless!” Madeline protested, almost jumping forward in her seat. She still shifted enough to bump into the table, and the dishware rattled. “Just look at everything you’ve done.” Her mouth remained open for a few seconds, as if she was about to continue. Instead, her hand pressed against her chest, as if to say _Look at what you’ve done to me._ “I understand,” she continued in a whisper. “You don’t want your powers. You want power over other people.”

The words were closer to a physical blow than anything, and the softness of her voice only made it worse instead of better. As much as it made Pitch fee like a fool, he had never considered it. He had always looked at his actions as part of his job, part of what allowed his existence. Fear _was_ control, there was nothing incorrect about that.

_So then how can she possibly—?_

[_How?_]

_(It looks like she understands you more than you do)_

_But—!_

“It doesn’t have to be this way.”

Madeline looked serene. Even the knowledge of how nervous she was and that the woman felt like her insides had just been put through a blender didn’t make it any better. She looked absolutely calm and certain, as if there was nothing that could change her mind in the entire world. Even her hands had moved back to her lap, the woman’s visible nervous tick having disappeared completely from sight.

“None of it has to be that way, Pitch,” she continued, sounding like a mother consoling her crying child. “I may not be afraid of you, but I’m still talking to you. That’s what you want, right? For someone to believe in you?”

_(Oh dear, it looks like she’s r—)_

“Enough!” Pitch shouted, his voice echoing as thunder. It was enough for Madeline’s calm to break apart, for the anxiety she had been pushing down to spring to the surface. Pitch absorbed it and resonated it right back. She already knew. There was no sense in being careful. Soon, it cracked the barrier into fear, and Pitch extended himself, shadows leaking into the room.

“Look at me,” he continued. Madeline hesitated, looked to him, flinched back, then managed to hold her gaze, eyes almost shaking and wider than most children’s at the sight of him. “I am not someone you can save. I am not someone you can have as a friend. I exist to be feared and nothing else. And you were a fool to trust me.”

Strengthening the connection between them so he could drink up even more of her fear, Pitch allowed his darkness to explode and slipped away from Madeline and into the shadows.

* * *

Everything she had said was useless. Even worse, her own natural awareness of fear—either it was a disposition she had or because the Boogeyman had revealed himself to her and outright _declared_ his intentions—made it hard to do anything other than slowly build up her fear reserves to leech off of. It was progress from the morning, but it still felt like things were moving far too slowly.

It was merely a practicality for him to be concerned. Now that the woman _knew_ what he was doing, there were a number of things she could decide to do in order to prepare herself. Pitch wasn’t able to read anything other than her fear, but it would only take a strong sense of resolve from any adult to be able to gain control over the part of her brain that was starting to become terrified of him.

It was especially frustrating since the previous night had only proven that the usual tricks of sounds and shadows didn’t have effect. Pitch spent his afternoon and evening focusing on the resonance connection between them, and going through his mental catalogue of approaches he could take.

_(You know the answer, you’re just too much of a coward to go through with it)_

And, really, was there any other way for the _Nightmare_ King to go about causing terror?

Night had already fallen by the time Pitch came to the realization and decided to go through with it. Madeline had yet to go to bed, and it would be better to act before then. The woman was able to maintain an utter sense of calm while sleeping, and it would drain a source of his power and make it difficult to overpower the Nightmare. There was no time for hesitation, and no time to second-guess himself.

Pitch slid through the shadows and into the cold air of the dark.

The outside world differed completely between the day and the night. Before, Pitch had been wary in returning to his domain because of the Nightmares. Even now, a part of that followed him, but he didn’t let it stop him. No matter how easy it would have been to return indoors to Madeline’s home, being out in the darkness felt _right_ again, like the home to his powers that it was.

_(But are you going to falter?)_

Pitch strode up to the barn door, then hesitated. The Nightmares had corned him, had taken him as a prisoner in his own home, his own game. While numbers had been on their side, Pitch knew that the Nightmare would be able to latch onto any bit of its former master’s fear and exploit it. It also had been able to feed off of the dissent Pitch had built up amongst Madeline’s workers.

_(It can easily take you apart and you know it)_

Pitch slipped through the shadows under the barn door like lightning, nearly cracking into existence in front of the Nightmare if it weren’t for his complete silence. It took a second for the Nightmare to notice, then it rose up on its hind legs to terrifying height, letting out a ghastly whinny.

However, it had hesitated. Pitch had a split second to force submission onto the horse, and he built the connection before the Nightmare could protect itself against it, and the Boogeyman didn’t back down. The Fearling stopped any attempts at physical intimidation, its efforts focused on regaining its independence.

The connection made it easier to remember what it was like to be captured by them, to be in the Nightmares’ presence. The memory of fear pushed inside of Pitch, like an ever growing bubble, ready to consume him. It was terrifying, the idea of living under the Nightmares forever, and it produced such a shudder inside him before Pitch pushed back.

_(You’re struggling is pointless. Just give—)_

_This is enough!_

Pitch pushed against the Nightmare’s defenses harder than he had thought he would be able to, and suddenly all the fear the Nightmare had collected was _his_ again, the rush of power soothing and invigorating all at once. The Fearling called out, a sound of submission, of defeat, and Pitch grinned as the rest of the fear that existed in the world came to him and made him fill full again.

The bubble inside of him popped, as if it had never existed.

_“I am the Nightmare King.”_

The words were meant to come from his lips, and that was all it took to have the Nightmares of the world at the beck and call of his fingertips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to BlueNekomata for the kudos!


	7. Chapter Six: Triumph

**Strength**

By: Aviantei

Chapter Six: Triumph

* * *

The rate at which the Nightmares flocked back was more than what Pitch had expected. He had been mainly focused on what having one Nightmare would be able to do to make progress on Madeline’s case that he hardly even considered what else may happen. But it seemed that proving himself against one of the Fearlings was enough to make the others recognize that their former master was no longer as weak as he had been just days ago, and was, in fact, their master once again.

For the first time since his defeat by the Guardians, the thoughts of insecurity ceased.

The Nightmares had been at work to collect whatever fear they could, given that Pitch’s escape had eliminated their main source. It seemed they had yielded mixed results—some upon coming back under Pitch’s influence were almost drained, others brought with them a replenishing wave of fear that made the power Pitch had gained the past few days to multiply.

In all reality, it was only a fraction of what he had had at his height in the Dark Ages—of the time of his plan—but it was so much more than his sojourn in Madeline’s home that it felt like it surpassed even that.

The number of Nightmares was far more than necessary as well, considering Madeline was the only target at the moment. Of course, numbers did have their advantages; Pitch could easily overwhelm her with fear, possibly even leave her broken if he desired. It wouldn’t have been difficult, even at his current power level. Still, the Nightmare King pushed aside the thought. That wasn’t what he wanted.

He wanted her to be able to remember. He wanted her to be afraid, but he wanted her to remember. Absolutely petrifying her ran the risk of her blocking out the memories and that just wouldn’t do. She may even go so far as to forget him entirely, and that wasn’t acceptable. She needed to believe in him. She needed to be afraid.

Only having one of those just wasn’t acceptable.

* * *

Creating nightmares—not the Fearlings, but the dreams themselves—was something that was more complicated than even the Sandman would recognize. While the Nightmares were capable of incurring fear and bad dreams, they worked on a certain autopilot, building up fear and anxiety to cause the human brain to create stressful dreams on its own. And while that had been useful for the purpose of affecting the children of the world en masse, the resulting fear was _nothing_ compared to what the perfect nightmare could achieve.

The perfect nightmare had to be crafted from the ground up, specifically tailor-made for the person that would be experiencing it. An awareness of every little insecurity had to be present, and each element was craft to either trigger or irritate fears and anxieties. Depending on the fear output of the target, specific resonance factors were needed to enhance their fear without making it completely inescapable until the last second. It was the elimination of any remaining hope that completed nightmares, and in some cases, even led the way into night terrors.

Gathering these prerequisites for Madeline was much more difficult than it was for others, even with the amount of time Pitch was around her. Despite that contact, he had been unable to learn much about her fears, given that she kept them under wraps the majority of the time. A few minor nervous ticks, but nothing more than that. He was missing the core piece, the most necessary element to any nightmare.

The greatest fear.

It would have been impossible otherwise. Well, a minor nightmare may have been able to exist without such a thing, but that wasn’t what Pitch needed. He needed the perfect nightmare, and he wasn’t going to settle for anything less than that. This was the last time he intended to have contact with Madeline, so it needed to be impressionable enough that she wouldn’t stop believing in him before the Boogeyman left.

It wasn’t as if it was impossible for him to get the necessary knowledge in the short time span set as the ideal. That was another reason the Nightmares were able to act on their own and still produce results. Namely, humans were more vulnerable to their subconscious being accessed and manipulated in their sleep. It was the reason the Sandman was capable of creating dream suited for every child, and the reason why it was so easy for humans to dream about things that were impossible for them. It made human thought capable of being incredible.

It also made them vulnerable.

After assessing his regained force of Nightmares, Pitch sent most of the successful ones out to resume collecting any ambient fear they could gather. The rest he kept idle or sent out in groups. He only needed a few of them nearby to be able to overwhelm Madeline as needed and there was no wasting time.

He stood at her bedside, following the thread of fear between them to the woman’s unconscious.

And he dove right in.

* * *

_(You sure do require a lot of reassurance for something you were just too afraid to do on your own)_

It meant nothing.

He ignored it.

* * *

At the age of eighteen, Madeline was quickly becoming one of the most talented horse riders in the county. Maybe it wasn’t that much of an impressive feat given how rural the area she lived in was, but it was still pretty cool to have newspapers taking pictures and interviews, to have her family supporting her. Sure, at some times, it was a little annoying, but Madeline would have withstood anything so long as she could _ride_.

She tightened the straps on her saddle, making sure to keep the balance between a steady hold and keeping the horse comfortable. Used to her fussing, Klaudia nickered in assurance. Madeline moved her hands to pet Klaudia’s snout, calming both their nerves.

“This is it, girl.” Outside of the prep area, a polite round of applause echoed. The rider preceding her must’ve been doing well. Madeline couldn’t focus on that. This was about making her own ride the best it could be. Hours of practice hadn’t been for nothing. “We’re going to go out there and do our best, no exceptions.”

Madeline hooked one foot into the saddle, tightened her grip, and swung herself up and over Klaudia’s side. The increase in height brought a boost in nerves. On the ground, it was easy to feel small. Riding on several feet of horse, Madeline felt like she could see everything.

The rider before her completed the course, earning one last set of cheers. Their score was announced, but Madeline focused on her breathing, eyes shut. Her and Klaudia’s breathing became one, and Madeline steered the golden horse to the starting point, smiling at the crowd. Even with the overhung sky and nervousness screaming within the pits of her stomach, excitement prickled all the way to the tips of her gloved fingers.

Then the signal sounded and they were off.

Being an early round in the tournament, the course difficulty wasn’t too high. Madeline steered Klaudia with speed but caution. The first few hurdles were cleared easily, and Klaudia took the first turn sharply enough to make Madeline wince. They made it, but not without teetering their balance. Madeline tightened her grip and aimed Klaudia towards the next obstacle.

Somewhere between remaining upright and prepping for a jump, Madeline slipped.

Her vision tinted grey. She felt herself falling—a foot slipping out of the saddle, the other getting caught, the sharp impact across her leg, down her back as she hit the ground. Klaudia didn’t make it far without her rider, slowing to a trot. There were shouts from the crowd, but not in praise. Shock stained the air and Madeline’s nose filled with the clog of fresh blood.

Her consciousness didn’t hold.

The rest of the tournament weekend was a blur.

A concussion wrecked her cognitive functions. Her leg had snapped in several places, chips of bone dust grinding in an uneven break. She hadn’t been awake when the doctors set the limb back into place, only woke up to worries from her family. Her parents focused on the fact that she was okay; her brother took the plunge and let her know that he chances of her competitively riding again were unlikely.

Everything she had built up, had worked for, gone just like that.

Madeline hated thinking about that time. Not because of the events themselves; those couldn’t be changed. But she hated her reactions, how she had broken at the slightest little thing. How she had sat around and let it eat at her until her brother encouraged her to work with her passion for horses, to not stop moving forward.

She couldn’t remember that feeling now. The warmth and reassurance didn’t penetrate this memory. All she had left was the choking sensation of fear filling her lungs with dirt and dust. The feeling of her stomach falling out from beneath her repeated, like she was falling in air. Daggers of phantom pain she hadn’t encountered in years embedded themselves in her leg in burning shockwaves.

She sobbed, curling into herself, trying to close out the scene in front of her. She hadn’t dreamed of this in years. It shouldn’t have been able to hurt her. But it persisted, even as she curled in a ball, trying to isolate herself from all feeling.

It didn’t work. When she cracked open her eyes, hoping for salvation, she only found darkness. Her scream stopped at a whimper. Her eyes adjusted, the faintest trace of gray light contrasting with the black. Even when her night vision fully adjusted, the furthest corners still appeared as darkness. Living far from the city left her used to true night, but it went deeper than that, darker than darkness.

“Where…?”

Pitch had no intentions of answering that question. He melded into the shadows, drinking off her fear. A touch into the woman’s memory had brought up enough material to pull right at the source of her core fear. On his own, he hadn’t been able to touch it, but with the bolster of fear gathered by the Nightmares, plucking ideas from her consciousness had been easy.

He’d hardly had to change a thing.

Of course, letting her wake up in the safety of her own bedroom would have undone the work. In children, darkness was enough to scare them. Adults weren’t fooled so easily, and Madeline’s calm logic would work against him in a familiar environment. Thankfully, his reclaimed lair existed as more of a mental concept than an actual physical location. Dropping her into its heart was simple with the tugs of power coursing through his body.

_(It was nothing in comparison to the fear that had encased the world over Easter but)_ He was _strong_ again.

Fear of the unknown—the most primal of fears—rolled off Madeline, replenishing Pitch in waves. He savored the sensation like a careful taste of wine. Her current level of terror met the par he had lived with for so long in obscurity, but it still quenched his thirst after the past days of bare minimum existence.

_And this is just the first step._

“Poor little Madeline,” he taunted, his voice echoing off the walls, further pushed by his influence. Nightmares added haunting cries to the damp, mold-scented air. Madeline’s heart rate launched back up from its calming position. “One little accident, and everything just vanished. A _careless_ mistake, really.”

Madeline slapped her hands over her ears, but they couldn’t block him out. Not when she was deep within his domain. More than getting hurt, more than the future she’d worked towards getting snipped away, she feared the mistake she had made in not assembling her saddle properly before the race. The intensity of consequences her actions could ensue.

Pitch raised the lights in the cavern, enough so that her eyes would be able to make out the hulking figures of the Nightmares as they surrounded her. Pitch remained cloaked by shadows, projecting his voice.

“Taking care of horses is one thing,” he drawled as the Nightmares twisted further, ribbons of black sand dancing in the air, “but teaching riding lessons?” Madeline flinched further into herself, her mental plea to wake up doing no good. “And for children no less.” Pitch slunk behind her, dropping his voice so that she’d only hear it from the close proximity. “You know how dangerous riding can be. What if you slip up again?”

The Nightmares completed their transformation. Some remained as horses; the others melded their shapes into those of children, mounted atop their comrades’ backs. Horse brays and youthful laughter rang out through the chamber. Madeline didn’t budge from her curled in position. Pitch could have left trails of images across her eyelids, but seeing things directly had much more impact. Solidifying from out of the shadows, Pitch held the woman’s arms down with one hand and jerked her head up with the other. Shock and tears filled her eyes, frozen open as one of the still horse formed Nightmares bucked the sand child off its back.

The child flew through the air, struck the stone floor, and scattered into millions of black sand grains.

Madeline’s scream rang out, cut off as she choked on a lack of air. Feeling every bit of power from her fear as their master, the remaining Netherlings whipped into a frenzy, dismounting their riders. Some fell as the first, others had their sand limbs stomped upon and scattered, filling the air with thick black dust and retaking shape to start the scene anew.

“You’re not qualified in the slightest,” Pitch continued, further stoking the fire of misery tearing apart Madeline’s insides. She didn’t have the strength to struggle against him, but the Nightmare King didn’t release his hold. “Every parent that’s entrusted their child to you took a great risk. You haven’t had any major accidents yet, but it’s only a matter of time. That’s how life works.

“Come to think of it, you’ve had your fair share of close calls, haven’t you?” Madeline’s form shook in his grip, the Nightmares continued their dance, and the sounds of screams, animal and human alike, threatened to overpower Pitch’s voice. He leaned closer to her ear, and the close contact only unraveled the woman more. “Nothing too serious, but they could have been. Children slipping while mounting. The one that ran too far off and almost lost its rider. The tumble when the horse got steered into a ditch the child hadn’t seen.” The mention brought fresh images to Madeline’s mind, and the Nightmares added them to the unrelenting menagerie around them. The woman’s broken sobs punctuated the rest of the news. Her panic levels reached a point of hyperventilation, sending her brain into further override.

In such a close proximity, it was easy to distinguish the flavor of her fear. All amounts of fear held a taste, but Pitch had more likely than not too focused on collecting any fear at all to indulge himself. In children, the tastes varied across a range of bitter flavors, often followed up by a sweet aftertaste.

Flavor often mattered little to someone who was starving.

But with Madeline’s fear seeping into every corner of his lair, Pitch couldn’t ignore the taste seeping across his sixth sense and tongue. It held the bite of an aged wine with just the right amount of blackberry sweetness overtop.

The only sensation that stood a chance in comparison was the burst of energy within Pitch himself. Beyond the collections of the Nightmares, you couldn’t compare to fresh fear gathered from the source. It surged through his veins like adrenaline, a wake-up call to his former dormant body. Signals of fear from across the world surged into his awareness, ready for the cultivation, ripe for the picking.

One thing remained to complete the scenario, to bring his torture of Madeline to a close, to cut his personal connection while leaving a lifeline to her belief and rightful fear.

The silent plea to make the vision in front of her stop reached Pitch from his subconscious connection with the woman, but Madeline had yet to admit she was afraid, both out loud and to herself.

“You want it to go away?” Pitch coaxed, lifting the hand from her arms to gesture across the room. Madeline hugged across her chest, nightgown sleeves in disarray. Inflicting a paralysis of fear seemed impressive in light of her usual unaffected attitude. “I think you know what you need to do.”

“Please…” Her voice had gone hoarse, tears washed water and saline down her cheeks. “I don’t want to see anymore, please, Pitch.”

Still behind her, Madeline wasn’t privy to the frown that crossed his face. “Don’t use that name,” he growled. While it was part of him, it wasn’t necessary to his existence. Madeline considered Pitch her friend; the Nightmare King needed to be her enemy. “You’re forgetting who you’re dealing with. I am the _Boogeyman_. I have no need of your pleas.”

_I need only your fear._

Madeline whimpered, failing to catch her breath. Pitch resonated a fresh layer of unrest and anxiety to her emotional state, refusing to let her regain any semblance of calm. “You are not wrong to be afraid of me. I created this nightmare, just for you to experience and drown in. I have no remorse. I have no pity. This is my job, woman, and I won’t be stopped.”

“Wh…y…?”

Her voice was little more than a whisper, but its clarity of fear rang true.

“Why?” the Nightmare King Echoed, his own voice coming out incredulous.

“Why…do I need to say it?” Madeline hadn’t gained any of her strength, but the words came much more steadily. Pitch allowed it to speed the conversation along. “You said you can feel these things, right? You know that I’m—”

She cut herself off on the last word, denying Pitch the satisfaction, the rush of energy that would come with it. As long as some part of her remained stable and courageous, she wouldn’t provide the right amount of fear.

“Because you’re the only one left.” Pitch slunk around her as wisps of shadow, reforming in front of her, their faces close. Madeline didn’t look away, though there was a faint hope in her that this was a trick. “No one else in this world believes in me, so I’m taking what I can from you, until I’m strong enough to survive. I don’t need much more until I can establish my presence again, and your little nightmare will be over.

“See this?” Pitch moved aside, though he kept a hand holding onto Madeline’s shoulder, and gestured to the expanse of Nightmares. “I don’t only create dreams, don’t just send you eternal fear and anxiety.” With a click of his tongue, one of the Nightmares reformed itself and trotted to its master’s side. It lowered its head to regard Madeline, but didn’t touch her due to a silent command. “You know I can interact with the physical world.” He left out his limits on contact with humans, because that, too, would soon change. “If I need to, I will only harvest fear from you, and I will use all my capabilities to do so. I will make every fear you’ve ever had into a reality, until there’s nothing left of you.”

The Nightmare nickered, and Pitch reached a hand to its nose. Madeline glanced over her shoulder, looking for an escape route, but Pitch summoned a wall of shadow to prevent it. “Prolonged exposure to Netherlings can have rather dire effects on a human,” he finalized. “I don’t think you want to experience them.”

Madeline’s gaze jumped between Pitch and the Nightmare unable to decide which was the lesser evil. They were preferable to the spectacle alongside them, where Madeline’s frantic thoughts had added yet more figures: silhouettes of her workers in accidents, building damage, deceased horses, shapes of her family, her own bones broken once again, furthering the damage past repair—

“I’m—” Madeline started, cutting herself off. “I’m not—”

Pitch snarled. “_Enough_ of your pretentions.” His grip tightened on Madeline’s shoulder, enough that she winced. Her fight or flight response urged her to run, but she wouldn’t have been able to do so if she tried. “You are not immune to fear, woman. You are not immune to _what I am_, and denying it will not win you any favors. Stop being so stubborn and—”

“You’re using your power for all the wrong reasons!” she shouted, eyes clenched tight, hands balled into fists. “This isn’t what you’re meant to do. No matter how you keep going on and on about getting your power back, even if you do get that boost off me, you’re still going to be w—_gghk!_”

Madeline’s choke dropped into a newfound silence as the Nightmares halted to watch their master. Even the phantom horse beside Pitch stilled, not even a twitch of its tail. Pitch’s hand tightened around Madeline’s throat, pushing her back into the new wall. The Nightmare King stood, dragging Madeline up with him, the woman’s feet not even touching the floor.

_How dare she how dare she how dare she_

_(Are you going to deny it though?)_

“_I_,” Pitch growled out, “am _not_ weak.” The newest wave of fear only bolstered him further, the thick taste of mortal terror. Madeline clawed at his hand, but it did nothing against his grip. “I could very, very easily make you disappear. No one would find a trace of where you’ve gone.” He couldn’t well destroy his belief lifeline, but Madeline couldn’t grasp onto that logic in her state. “Now abandon your fantasies of friendship. Abandon your pride. Do so, or you abandon your life.”

Pitch pulled his hand back. Madeline dropped to the floor, hacking and gasping for air. Brief lines of saliva hung from her mouth and flecked to the floor, accompanied by tears. “I’m scared,” she whispered.

Pitch took a sharp step forward. Madeline took what little distance he had given her and scrambled back to the makeshift wall. “Try again,” he commanded.

The admittance had been enough to open the last fear connection between them. Pitch drained most of it to his personal reserves, letting the recesses trickle to the waiting Nightmares. At this point, his orders were _(way to rub it in)_ a matter of personal satisfaction.

Madeline jerked her head up to him, attempting to set her jaw in resolve. Her entire form trembled like a browned leaf caught in a Halloween breeze: unable to hold its ground and fragile, breakable at any second. “I’m scared,” she repeated, the emotion seeping into each syllable, accompanied by sharp hitches of crying. “I’m scared of you, are you happy now?!”

She curled in on herself in a tight ball, and Pitch allowed it. The grin slit open his face, and the Nightmares behind them rallied in victory.

“Oh, more than you could ever imagine.”

Pitch raised his left hand, palm facing Madeline. With a jerk, she was expelled from his lair, returned to her bedroom. Pitch closed the makeshift portal he had created under her bed, leaving her to her own devices. The tight cord of fear and belief held over the distance, siphoning each negative emotion to him, with the same clarity as in her presence. She may calm down with time, but it would be easy to reinvigorate the fear when he needed it.

Strength filled his very being. Pitch turned from the wall he had made, cutting a path through the Nightmares towards his main chambers. The Netherlings fell into step behind him, sensing their master’s intent.

“I’d say that was the most productive start to a new evening,” he mused. The expanse of his phantom globe lit with the lights of belief in the guardians stood at the ready, begging to be extinguished. Out of his range for now, but he could plan for as long as necessary. “It would be a shame if we wasted this new momentum, wouldn’t you say?”

Enticed by the promise of fresh fear, the Nightmares’ cries echoed up into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Sylphidine_Gallimaufry for the comment! I'm glad you're enjoying the story!


	8. Chapter Seven: Concern

**Strength**

By: Aviantei

Chapter Seven: Concern

* * *

The soft sound roused Jamie Bennet from his sleep, and he shifted in bed. Not willing to get up when it still seemed dark outside, Jamie snuggled further into his blanket. It had just been a few days since the Easter excitement, and falling asleep seemed all the easier knowing that the Guardians were watching out for him and every other child in the world.

So when the next sound pricked at his ears, Jamie tried to ignore it. But it came from the next room, where Sophie slept, and it didn’t sound good. He listened for a few minutes, the silence stretching on, until the next muffled whimper slipped through the night. Concern pushing back any chance of a peaceful sleep, Jamie slipped off the bed and blinked to adjust his eyes to the dark.

He had long grown past the need for a nightlight, but the street lamps provided an orange glow to his bedroom. He hadn’t quite been honest when his mom had asked if his room was clean, and a few balls and other toys scattered the floor. Jamie hopped around them as he padded towards his bedroom door, taking care not to make too much noise. He could scare Sophie more or, worse, wake up his parents and get in trouble for being up too late.

The hallway didn’t have any windows to let light in, but the bathroom light was on down the hall, its door cracked open as a beacon in case he or Sophie needed to go at night. The light made the shadows stretching along the floor seem all the darker, but Jamie wasn’t afraid. Not only did he have the Guardians, but the Boogeyman was no longer there, defeated not just by the Guardians, but Jamie and all his friends. After that, a little bit of dark was nothing.

It was a short walk to Sophie’s door, and Jamie took care in turning the knob to not break the silence of the house. Sophie’s door had a habit of squeaking, so he took his time in opening it, too. “Sophie?” he whispered, but just got another whimper in response. Jamie slipped into his sister’s room.

Sophie whimpered again.

A tall dark figure stood over her bed.

Jamie hadn’t been planning on closing the door behind him, but he couldn’t, even if he had wanted to, paralyzed by shock.

The streetlights were still on outside, but they seemed dimmer than Jamie remembered from his own room. But the lack of reflection proved the figure’s skin to be dark, at least in the places where it wasn’t covered by thick, shadowy clothing.

_Pitch Black._

The realization hit him just at the same time the remembrance of Easter weekend had; Jamie had remembered the Boogeyman in vague impressions of shadow and cackling laughter, but had forgotten the spirit’s name, had forgotten what the Nightmare King had looked like. But he stood in front of Jamie now, one of his Fearlings cantering in circles above Sophie’s head.

Questioning, indignation, and protectiveness all spiked in his mind, crashing into each other before they could push sound out of Jamie’s throat. None of the feelings in him were fear—concern, yes, for his sister, but not fear. Jamie knew he had the strength in him to hold off Pitch if he had to, and if not, the Guardians were more than capable. The belief in Jack and the others meant they would come and they would win.

Jamie clenched his fists, eyeing the window. Sophie’s bed and the Nightmare King stood between Jamie and it, and his sister had far more toys scattered across her floor. Running for it would be dangerous. But for the moment, he didn’t need to rush. Not unless Pitch tried to attack him. Jamie could overcome fear, but—

A flash of gold turned on Jamie, almost Halloween yellow in the darkness. Jamie wanted to run, but held strong. _He will not scare me, he will not hurt me, he will not hurt my sister._

The Boogeyman let out a sigh like dusty spider webs and pointed the Nightmare to retreat. The Fearling reared up in silence, shook out its head, and whisked back into its master’s sleeves. Before Jamie could say anything else, they both had vanished into the shadows.

Jamie raked his eyes across the room, desperate to catch any trace of the man in the darkness. There were none. His joints shifted into movement, and he trampled more than one stuffed animal in his quest to his sister’s bedside. The orange lights from the outside, brighter, illuminated Sophie’s face. Her whimpers had died out, and the faint flow of the Sandman’s golden sand wound towards her, bringing out a giggle. The sand urged towards him, too, imploring for Jamie to rest. He waved it off.

Satisfied that Sophie would be alright for the night, Jamie navigated to her widow. He would’ve liked to do this in his own room, but there wasn’t time, not with Pitch on the loose. Jamie cupped his hands around his mouth, breathing fog onto the windowpane. The warming weather meant it started to fade right away, and Jamie made swift, short strokes in the mist with his index finger. First a plus sign, then an x through that, then small branches off of each of the ends.

The snowflake almost disappeared with the rest of Jamie’s breath. Then it glowed silver, peeling off the glass like the snow rabbit Jack had charmed to life Easter evening. The snowflake spun into Jamie’s nose, scattering in a small flurry of snow. He giggled and caught the snowflakes in his hands, his worry almost forgotten.

The next few minutes of waiting were almost enough to bring it back in full force. The door hung open behind him—what if his parents got up and noticed he was out of bed?—but Jamie didn’t dare move so he didn’t throw Jack off. He hadn’t used the signal before, and as time pressed on, Jamie was almost worried that it hadn’t worked, that maybe he’d remembered the signal wrong. The cold snow in his hands refused to melt, though, encouraging him to keep believing. Jack had promised he would come if Jamie ever needed him.

_And boy do I ever need him._

Just when Jamie was considering drawing a second snowflake to let Jack know _this was an emergency_, there was a tap of wood on the window. The familiar curved end of Jack’s staff came into view, and frost sprang to life across the entirety of Sophie’s window pane. Jamie fumbled with the locks on the window and threw it open to let the bite of early spring and Jack’s winter air in.

“Thanks,” Jack said, swinging into the room. Snowflakes scattered from his hair like dandruff. His white hair glowed even in the faint lights. “Sorry, got caught up in this awesome snowball fight in the mountains. Russian kids, I think?” He frowned for a moment in concentration, then shook the thought off. “But it’s kind of late, Jamie. You know you gotta rest to play, right?”

“No, no, I didn’t call you for that,” Jamie said. Now that he had someone to talk to, the only thing stronger than the torrent of words from his mouth was the thudding of his frantic heartbeat. “I was trying to sleep but I woke up and I thought it was nothing but Sophie was whimpering so I was wondering what was wrong and went to check on her but when I came in Pitch Black was here and he had a Nightmare and I thought I was gonna have to fight him but when he saw me he just left and then I called you but I thought you might not come but now you’re here and—”

Jack held up a pale hand and seated himself on the windowsill. “Easy, easy,” he said. Jamie tried to reign in his gasping breaths. Sophie rolled over in her bed but didn’t wake up. “You said you saw Pitch? _Here?_”

Jamie’s shoulders drooped. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

“Hey, of course I believe you. You believe in me, don’t cha?” Jamie nodded. Jack chuckled, though it didn’t sound as happy as Jamie remembered. “Good, so we both believe each other. I was just surprised. I thought that after everything Pitch was…”

“Gone?” Jamie finished.

“Yeah, he ran off and the Nightmares went after him,” Jack said. He tapped his staff to his head, his usual smile replaced with a frown. “I mean, he’s an immortal, so we didn’t think he’d be gone forever, but this is really fast.” Jamie shuddered. If the Boogeyman could recover so fast, did that mean he’d get that strong again, too? Jack took note of Jamie and put a smile back on. “Hey, no worries. We Guardians have all of you believing in us. No Boogeyman is gonna be able to hurt you.”

Jamie dug his nails into his palms, willing himself to believe it was true—No, it _had_ to be true. The Guardians had all the children of the world believing in them. After his plan had failed, Pitch Black had nothing; even Jamie had forgotten about him for a while, as few days as it had been.

_Just because I believe in him doesn’t mean I need to be afraid of him. And if I’m not afraid, he won’t get stronger._

Holding back that fear was a bit harder than Jamie would have liked. Not for himself, who could call the Guardian of Fun whenever he needed it, but for his friends, who didn’t know the Boogeyman was prowling the night again, and for his sister, who was too young to understand what she needed to do to stay safe. She had been targeted once. What if it happened again?

“Hey,” Jack said, tossing a small handful of snow at Jamie’s face. He spluttered, but a giddy feeling of excitement swept into him, chasing away the fears that clawed at his brain. He and his friends had won last time through having _fun_, and they could do it again. Jack smiled his sideways smile. “That’s better. Don’t worry about if the worst happens. Because the Guardians and I are gonna look into this, and we’ll get Pitch back under control in no time.”

Not wanting to disappoint, Jamie said, “Right,” and nodded. “I don’t think Pitch wants you guys to know he’s here. That’s why he ran instead of leaving his Nightmare.”

Jack held a hand to his chin. “He had a Nightmare for sure?” Jamie confirmed it. Jack looked like he was thinking of something but didn’t say a word about it. “Well, that’ll give us an idea where to look.” He gave Jamie a playful punch to the shoulder. “Thanks, Jamie. You sure helped us out here.”

Jamie beamed. Even if he would be tired tomorrow, Jack’s praise made it worth it. “Are you gonna go after him, then? Can I help?”

“You’ve helped plenty, kid,” Jack said with a chuckle. He turned Jamie in the direction of the door and nudged the boy’s back. “You better get back to bed before Sandy gets upset at me for keeping you up. Don’t worry, the Guardians and I will take care of the rest.”

“Okay,” Jamie said with a pout. He gave one last look to Jack, who gave him a reassuring smile. In bed, Sophie shivered, and the Spirit of Fun went about closing the window, shutting the cold out. Jack gave a look that said he wasn’t moving until Jamie went back to bed. The boy complied, navigating Sophie’s floor once more with a passing pat to his sister’s head, and shut the door with the same caution he’d opened it with. It took less than a minute for him to get back to his own bed, the Bennett house just as it had been before Pitch had stepped into its halls.

Jamie stared at his own window until he saw Jack’s figure ride past on the wind. And then the golden Dreamsand made its way back to him, and Jamie drifted back to sleep.

* * *

“Child see Pitch Black? Are you certain?”

North raised an eyebrow as his fellow Guardians stood (or hovered, in Toothiana’s case) in a circle in the crisp air. The lake where Jackson Overland had passed and Jack Frost had been born reflected the night sky. It was a bittersweet memory, but Jack still held the place as important and had been making preparations to have his own home base nearby. It also held him close to Burgess, where Jamie became the first child that believed in him.

Given that a few days had passed, he hadn’t been able to construct anything other than a small lean-to. It may not have been anything close to the Workshop, the Warren, the Tooth Palace, or the Island of the Sleepy Sands, but it was the best they had. And if Pitch _was_ involved, the Guardians had agreed acting fast was of the essence.

“Yes, I’m certain,” Jack said, leaning back against a tree. Bunny was standing under a snow covered branch just begging to be dropped on the kangaroo, but it was not the time for pranks. “Jamie’s a good kid; he wouldn’t lie. And I…felt the difference in the room. Where fun had been replaced by something else.”

Jack was still getting a handle on his abilities as a Guardian, but being able to sense his center in others was something that he didn’t need to practice. Fun filled him up, just as the lack of it left an aching in his chest, begging to be corrected.

“Hm,” Tooth said, the sound almost blending in with the humming of her wings. They flashed snippets of rainbow in the darkness. “Yes, I can feel it, too. The good memories are a bit dampened. Not all the way, just a little.”

“The real question is what the heck that bugger’s doing slinking out and about again,” Bunny said. He pulled a boomerang from his bandolier and flipped it between his fingers. “You’d think the last butt-whoopin’ we have him would’ve at least scared him of a couple ‘a years, at least.”

Jack considered the situation, trying to make sense of everything Jamie had said. “Maybe he’s not trying something big. I mean, he left once Jamie saw him.” It wasn’t like Jack could say Pitch was just doing his job to defend him, because it hurt children, but there wasn’t much more the Boogeyman could do. “He has to get his power back somewhere, right?”

Bunny harrumphed. North tugged at his beard. Sandy hovered up from his spot on the ground, Dreamsand flashing golden images at him. North leaned closer. “You say no more nightmares in town?” Sandy nodded. “Well, then that mean Pitch ran away. He sneaky one. Will be hard to track down.”

“Well what should we do?” Tooth asked, smoothing out her feathers for the third time since they had started the meeting. “We can’t figure out what he’s doing if we can’t find him.” The Guardians grimaced as a group. “He shouldn’t be strong enough to do anything big again. But if he has those Nightmares, who knows how fast he can gather fear.”

“What I don’t get is why he’d come back to Burgess,” Jack said. “I mean, the kids went right through him.” His own memories of the sensation weren’t very good, and Jack knew he had tried to avoid places where no one could see him until he realized that was everywhere.

Bunny knocked his boomerang to the tree trunk beside him. The branch above him quivered, and Jack decided that if the snow fell on its own, then that was in no way his fault. “Why else would he go there? Bugger wants _revenge_,” Bunny said. Sandy let out a silent sigh. Tooth’s hands slapped to her mouth. “Those kids knocked him out of the park. Who wouldn’t be ticked off about that?”

“So he try to spread fear,” North said. “Just bad luck he found one child who could tell about him.” North winked at Jack, and the Guardian of Fun’s cheeks warmed up just a little. “But, I admit, we still don’t know what he up to.”

Sandy held up a finger to request a moment. Jack and the others watched as their comrade crossed his legs to meditate in midair. Beyond the buzz of Tooth’s wings and the rustle of the nocturnal animals that called this forest their home, there was silence. They waited so long that Jack thought he’d have icicles snapping off his hoodie when he moved. He was just about to drop the snow on Bunny, just so the argument could pass the time, but Sandy opened his eyes just as Jack’s hand tightened on his staff.

When Sandy’s pantomime flashed through the air, Jack translated, “You were able to trace the Nightmare Sand?” More golden shapes. “And there’s some fragments of it a little ways out of town?”

“Of course,” Tooth said with a smile that showed off every single one of her namesakes. “Pitch didn’t make the Nightmare Sand from scratch—he _corrupted_ the Dreamsand. Sandy can still sense some of it.” She bounced in place, her usual enthusiasm back.

Sandy tilted a hand in the classic so-so gesture. Bunny whapped his shoulder. “Aw, who cares if it’s not perfect, mate, you still got us a lead,” Bunny said. “We’ll leave it to you, so lead the way. Pitch’ll probably hide when daylight hits, so we gotta move fast.”

It was close enough that they didn’t bother with the sleigh or even a cloud of Dreamsand. Sandy led the way, Jack and Tooth flying behind them. Even on foot, North and Bunny kept pace. Trees and snow and stars swept past in a blur until the forest broke. Jack skipped over the edge of a fence, and the Guardians ducked around a large barn. The house came into view on the horizon.

“Oh, I know this place,” Tooth said. She raised her voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “Some of the kids have memories from here of riding horses. It’s so quiet at night, though. Like a different place.”

“Right. Ya ever collect teeth here before?” Bunny asked. The group slowed as they approached the door. For having just one floor, the house spread out wide, looking like it held a number of rooms. Jack had flown over the place once or twice, but since most of the kids in Burgess played inside their town, Jack had done the same.

Tooth tilted her head, searching through her own memory. “Well, you know that a few days ago was the first time I’ve collected teeth in a while. But I’m not sure if any of my fairies has come here.”

“Well I never deliver presents here before,” North said, striding up to the door. “I would recognize place like this. I don’t think there any children here.”

Sandy shook his head and pointed to the door, his face set. The Nightmare Sand had been here, there wasn’t any doubt. Jack trusted the Sandman’s silent word. “Well, we’re not gonna know for sure unless we check it out,” Jack said. Not even bothering with the traditional entrance, Jack slipped through the wall. The rest of the Guardians followed suit.

The moment he stepped foot on the living room carpet, Jack could feel the atmosphere change. There was a lack of fun in the house, what little there was clinging for a place to hold onto. The others were experiencing a lack of their centers, too, if the concerned twists of their faces were any indication. The glass door let light soak in from the outside, and Sandy’s form provided his usual golden glow, but some shadows refused to move even in the presence of light. “What the…?” Bunny said.

Sandy didn’t stop moving, forging the path forward. The Guardians slipped down the hall after him, moving in practiced silence. Sandy stopped before a bedroom door and swung it open, golden sand wafting into the room. Jack could’ve sworn he saw Nightmare sand race across the floor, like rats scattering once they had been discovered. Jack scattered traces of his magic of Fun, the air feeling lighter as the others did the same, ready to comfort the child scared inside.

Except they weren’t a child.

The figure that shot up in the bed was a woman.

Everyone froze, unsure of what to do. While Jack had gained believers after his induction to the Guardians, having adults unable to see him remained the norm. Not even Sandy, who had been a Guardian the longest, could be seen by most teenagers. Jack scanned the blankets, trying to find another lump in the blankets that would indicate a child hiding next to their mother after a nightmare, but there was none.

In the pale moonlight, the woman gaped, then fumbled for the lamp at her bedside. The light clicked on, revealing the dark bags and stains of tears under the woman’s eyes. Her blonde hair was a mess, more so than the average bedhead. Her limbs still trembled, as if trapped in some fierce cold. Jack wondered if Sandy had made a mistake, until he reached his magic out to the woman on a whim and felt the lack of fun inside her, a large and gaping gouge across her heart.

“Sandy,” Tooth hissed, “are you sure this is the right place?” The Sandman nodded.

The woman’s mouth flapped a few times. “You’re… You’re…” Jack grimaced as he realized what they looked like: a pack of thieves dressed in outlandish costumes. No, what they looked like couldn’t have mattered, but the woman’s green eyes were staring right at them. _She can see?_ “S-Santa,” she said, pointing at north. Her shaking hand roved across the Guardians as she named them off. “Easter Bunny. Tooth Fairy. Sandman.” At last, her finger rested on Jack, and her brow twisted in confusion. “Sorry, I don’t. A winter legend for sure, but…”

The failure to recognize him stung a bit, but Jack was mollified by the fact that she could even look at him in the first place. “Jack Frost?” he prompted.

“Oh, of course!” The woman smiled, glad for a name to attach to. It didn’t erase the gash in her soul, though. Whatever had happened, the Nightmare Sand had been involved, and it had torn right through her own center, whatever it may have been. “I’m Madeline. It’s nice to meet you. But, uh, what are you all doing here?”

Bunny leaned close to North and whispered, “She’s bonkers.”

“Bah, she just young at heart,” North said. Jack wondered how he could tell, with all the damage that was inside her. But North was the Guardian of Wonder with far more experience, and the fact that Madeline was even talking to him seemed like evidence enough. “There nothing wrong with believing even when older. Makes job easier for us, anyways.”

Sandy directed Dreamsand about the corners of the room, leaving a ward against the Fearlings’ presence. Madeline’s eyes lit up as she watched, her heart recovering just a little. Tooth hovered forward and cleared her throat. “Ah, Madeline,” she said, still out of practice from being in the field. Then again, her job involved visiting children in their sleep, so that still might not have helped much. “We’re sorry to barge in on you, but have you…” Tooth faltered, unsure of how to ask a grown woman if she had been having a nightmare or not.

Madeline sighed. “It would be that,” she said, almost to herself. Taking a few shuddering breaths, the woman lifted herself out of bed. When she almost stumbled, Jack moved forward, but Madeline steadied herself on the bedside table. She shook her hair out, then started tying it up with a scrunchie around her wrist. A loose bun secured, she turned to the Guardians, an almost sad smile on her face. “I suppose you’re here to ask me about Pitch Black.”


	9. Chapter Eight: Comfort

**Strength**

By: Aviantei

Chapter Eight: Comfort

* * *

The silence of the night felt all the thicker from hearing the Boogeyman’s name. The gloom that emanated from the Nightmare Sand threatened to eclipse the lamp light, as if bolstered by the mention of its creator, even with Sandy’s best efforts. The Guardians glanced to each other in apprehension, each of them looking as lost in the situation as Jack felt. The lack of response seemed to suck what little fun Jack could grasp in the room away, and North must’ve sensed something similar, because he cleared his throat in a great cough.

“Pitch Black, you say? You met Boogeyman?” Madeline nodded, stray wisps of her hair sticking out. “When this happen?”

The matter of how such a thing was possible seemed less important than securing a solid lead. The Guardians and the children of Burgess had, without any room for doubt, watched Pitch be chased off by his Fearlings. None of the children had remembered him, either, taking away his cushion of belief. It seemed unlikely that any human besides Jamie, with his pure heart of wonder, would have even noticed the Boogeyman in their presence.

But Madeline tapped her fingers together, counting to herself. “A couple of days ago,” she said. “That’s when he showed up. He left…he left a few hours ago.” Jack didn’t miss the tremble in her voice but was too busy with the shock reeling through him to try and provide any sense of comfort. Even Bunny’s jaw was hanging open, while Tooth clapped her hands together to stifle her gasp. Unlike North’s salvation from the silence, Madeline recovered first. “Ah, I’m sorry, this is rude of me. You’re guests; we shouldn’t be standing around in my bedroom. Let’s go to the kitchen. Hot cocoa? Tea?”

Without waiting for a response, Madeline navigated around the cluster of Guardians to the door. After a moment of hesitation, they followed the woman as she navigated the halls, flicking on lights as she went. Every now and then, she would pause to press a hand to her leg. It was in those moments her faint fragment of fun would flicker, and the gash in her center all the more obvious.

“Just what in the world happened here?” Jack asked himself. Sandy gave him a pat on the shoulder, but the Sandman’s brow was creased in worry, too. No matter how much Dream Sand he spread out, it couldn’t erase the presence of Pitch’s Influence, not without risking Madeline falling asleep in the process.

The quick flash of sand shapes conveyed what Jack had guessed: that Sandy wanted to just let the woman sleep everything off and wake feeling refreshed, but they needed her. Child or adult, not being able to put Madeline’s comfort first strained the natural instincts of a Guardian.

Once in the bright-lit kitchen, Madeline set a tea kettle on the stove to boil, then started rummaging through the cabinets. Her table didn’t have enough chairs for them all, so the Guardians all remained standing, Bunny and North leaning against opposite counters. Madeline hissed as she almost dropped several mugs, and Tooth zipped forward to help. “I can take care of this,” she said, easing the dishes from Madeline’s hands. A bit of Tooth’s usual bubbly confidence was missing, hesitation driven from uncertainty of how to even help a grown woman, but she was trying. “This must’ve been tough for you. You deserve the rest.”

“I’m fine, it’s no trouble. I shouldn’t make you guys do the work for me.” Madeline opened up another cabinet, pulling out Tupperware of tea bags and hot chocolate packets.

Tooth relieved the woman of those as well. “Nonsense, this is what we do. Besides, North makes the best hot chocolate in the world.” Tooth waved North over. As he approached, Madeline’s mouth seemed to quirk towards a smile, and Jack took up the empty position next to the refrigerator, staff still clutched in his hands. While it wasn’t as oppressive as the bedroom, there wasn’t any shortage of Pitch’s presence in the kitchen, either.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to miss the chance to drink hot chocolate from Santa, would I?” Madeline at last stepped away from the counter, though she made sure to thank Tooth and North beforehand. She looked around the room and, seeming to realize a similar discussion would ensue, took a seat at the table without protest.

“Ya said ya first saw the Boogeyman a couple ‘a days ago?” Bunny asked, his tone more on edge than usual. Jack wanted to tell the kangaroo to take it easy but couldn’t think of a subtle way to do it while standing on the opposite end of the room. Not even perturbed, Madeline nodded. “But he up ‘n left tonight?”

“Yes.” Madeline folded her hands in her lap, fingers still poking at her sleeves. The size was different, but she otherwise didn’t look different from any other scared child. “We were talking beforehand. He stumbled onto the ranch, and he looked so scared, so I let him stay.” There was a pause in the clatter of North and Tooth’s preparations, and the discomfort on Sandy’s expression grew. “We…got into an argument. I think that’s why…”

Something was missing from the end of the sentence, but Jack had his guesses. That was why Pitch had drenched this place in Nightmares? Why he’d done something enough to open a gash in Madeline’s heart and center? _Something’s not lining up. Why can’t I figure out what it is?_

Sandy waved for attention, his sand shapes flashing through the air. Madeline’s eyes widened in awe, and Jack did her the benefit of translating: “You let Pitch stay here?” It was hard to keep the incredulousness out of his tone.

“What else was I supposed to do? He didn’t have anywhere else to go.” Madeline said it all as if it were the most natural thing in the world. The tea kettle started to whistle, but, even then, Tooth and North both glanced over their shoulders, attention not in the least distracted from the conversation. “He needed someone to help him. I have too much space here anyway, so it wasn’t a problem.”

“And ya didn’t think havin’ some shady man in yer house wasn’t gonna cause trouble?”

“_Bunny_,” Jack hissed.

He was met with an eyeroll. “I’m just sayin’. That bugger doesn’t even look close to normal, and this Sheila just let ‘em in without even thinkin’ about it,” Bunny said, waving his paw about. Sandy was making gestures to calm his comrade down, but they didn’t seem to be effective. “Besides the fact that she could even _see_ his mug in the first place. Ya can’t tell me ya didn’ think somethin’ was strange about the whole thing.”

“I already know the situation wasn’t normal,” Madeline said. “Pitch told me as much.” Despite everything, his name didn’t come out with any traces of contempt. She looked to Bunny, leaning forward with a palm pressing to her chest. “But you’re the Guardians of Childhood, right? Helping people is what you do. Would you just leave someone alone because they seemed strange?”

Bunny’s nose twitched, but his next retort was cut off as Tooth zipped over to him, mug in hand. Bunny accepted the cup with a muted scoff. North ambled up to Madeline’s side next, placing another steaming mug on the table. “No need to get so worked up,” North said. He nudged Madeline’s shoulder and winked. “Go on. Try. Best hot chocolate ever tasted.”

Madeline accepted the drink, then took a sip. Despite the temperature, she went for a second, longer drink right after. “That’s amazing,” she said. “Very worthy of Santa.”

“Why such formality? Call me North!”

Tooth finished spreading mugs about the room, completing her rounds by passing a cup to Jack. He nodded in appreciation, enjoying the rich smell, but held off on drinking just yet. “You’ll have to forgive the kangaroo over there,” Jack said. Bunny glared, but Jack had fared through worse. “Putting the why of everything aside, you could see Pitch and you let him stay here for a while.” Jack casted wary glances to the rest of Guardians. “You think him being here brought the Nightmares?” It was a good explanation for why the black sand seemed to be stuck in every corner of the place.

“They were intent on chasing after him,” Tooth said, her wings fluttering faster than usual. Sandy flashed a few more golden shapes at them, and Tooth nodded her approval. “Whatever happened, he was a target for them. They might’ve still been after him.”

“Yeah, but Jamie didn’t see anything like that.” While it made sense, Jack trusted Jamie’s words. A pack of Nightmares would’ve been hard to miss in any circumstance. “Something must’ve changed. Pitch must’ve gotten control of the Nightmares again.” In which case, they were in trouble.

Setting down her mug of cocoa, Madeline raised her hand. “By Nightmares, are you talking about the black horses?”

North’s snowy eyebrows shot up into his hairline. “You see Nightmare?”

“If that’s what the horses are called, then yes. One showed up yesterday, and I gave it a stall in my barn.”

“Bonkers,” Bunny said to himself. “Bonkers, I tell you.” It seemed the only thing stopping him from throwing up his paws in exasperation was the cup in his hands. He let out a heavy sigh. “I don’t know why I’m botherin’ askin’ this, but _why_ did ya give it a stall in yer bloody barn?”

“You and Pitch said the same thing. What else was I supposed to do?”

Bunny put his mug on the counter with a thud, then started to pace across the floor. His voice had dropped low enough that it was hard to tell what he was saying, but Jack had his guesses. Tooth hovered next to Madeline’s side. “Well, putting that aside, let’s make sure we get all the facts first,” Tooth said. “Madeline, can you tell us everything that happened? It would help a lot.”

Madeline didn’t seem bothered at all by the fact that she was being spoken to like a child. After a quick sip from her mug, she went into a brief recounting of the past few days: finding Pitch, letting him stay, going grocery shopping (Bunny looked ready to rip his fur out), the Nightmare, and the sense of unease she’d been feeling. After talking about the argument she had had with Pitch, she stopped, but there had to be more, something that would account for the state she was in.

“Is something wrong?” Jack asked. His own mug was empty, but everyone was too preoccupied trying to absorb all the details to be bothered with preparing refills. Leaving the cup aside, Jack reached for his staff again, trying to push his aura of fun into the air and the clouding fear out. “We’re here to help, Madeline. You don’t have to worry about talking to us.”

She shook her head, still clutching to her mug even though it was empty. “I know that,” she said. “And thank you. This is just… The whole time he was very insistent on me being afraid of him. I know that he’s the Boogeyman, but something about the whole thing just feels wrong to me.” Not sure what to make of that, Jack chewed his lip in thought. Madeline stood, shaking out her limbs. “Sorry. I’ll tell you the rest in a moment. I need to use the restroom.” She ambled off, her stride still uneven, and the Guardians waited until Madeline was farther down the hallway to confer in the middle of the room.

“This isn’t good,” Jack said, his voice low enough not to carry far. “This isn’t just Pitch acting up. She gave him permission to be here. Who knows what he could’ve gotten up to in that time.”

“I agree. Is suspicious.” North ran a hand through his beard, his expression contorted in worry, just like the rest of them. “There is more to story, too. But even if seem strange, we cannot just leave her be. With all the fear in this place, she will need watched.”

Bunny scoffed, but it carried half its usual power. “I don’t wanna be rude, but the Sheila brought this on herself. He straight up told her who he was, an’ she let ‘im stay anyway! Even if we offer ta help, what good’s it gonna do if she just invites him in again?”

“She may not be a child, but she _can_ see us,” Tooth said. Sandy nodded several times in approval. “Regardless of the circumstances, we’re _Guardians_. We can’t just let someone who believes get hurt when we can do something about it.”

“Fat load of good that belief did her, bringin’ the Nightmare King to her doorstep…”

Bunny’s voice didn’t have any conviction to it, though, and even Jack, who had been part of the group the shortest amount of time, knew it. “I’m with Tooth and Sandy, too,” Jack said. “Whatever happened here, Madeline’s hurt. Plus she can see Pitch; she _believes_ in him. That automatically gives him more strength than he had before, especially as scared as she is now.”

North smacked Jack’s shoulder in approval. “Spoken like true Guardian!” he said, voice booming louder than their previous whispers. “We should look for Pitch, of course, but we must also take care of Madeline. She has not yet lost her spark of wonder. We will find out what else she can tell us, then make plan to protect her and track down Pitch.”

“It’s not like I was sayin’ we leave her be,” Bunny said, scratching behind his ear. “Besides, that bugger deserves a good butt whoopin’. I won’t argue about that.” He pulled out a boomerang, smacking it against the opposite paw, a grin stretching across his maw. “Let’s show him what for.”

United in purpose, the Guardians bolstered each other’s confidence. Sandy conjured the golden image of a clock, and Jack blinked in realization. “Oh, yeah, she has been gone a while,” he said. “I mean, well, we could tell she was just trying to pull herself together, but still.”

“I’ll go check on her,” Tooth said. Given that she was the sole female in the group, there were no objections. “You guys make sure everything’s cozy here. We’ll be back before you know it!” And just like that, Tooth zipped off down the hall. Without much else to do, Jack and the others tidied up their empty mugs and tried to chase away the clinging remnants of Nightmare Sand. Though it refused to be completely erased, Jack could still feel the air lighten as everyone did their part.

“Well at least it’s a little cozier,” Jack said, rolling his staff between his palms. Sandy smiled, looking relieved himself for a moment, until Tooth flew back through the door, almost crashing into the table. “Whoa, what’s the matter?”

Tooth grimaced, righting herself in the air. “She’s gone,” she said. The collective confused shouts of the Guardians overlapped each other, becoming an indistinguishable jumble of words. Tooth clenched her fists, and her feathers began to poof out in agitation. “I _said_ that Madeline’s gone. It took me a while to find the right room, but when I did, she wasn’t there. Just a thick sense of fear. It had to be a Nightmare. I just don’t know how in the world we didn’t sense it.”

It was a good question, but they didn’t have time to ponder over an answer. They all scrambled out of the kitchen, following Tooth’s lead. The bathroom wasn’t too far down the hallway, and the door ajar. The lights were flickering, even though the switch was turned all the way on, and the window was open, letting in the crisp air of night.

Even though it carried with it the last scents of winter, Jack didn’t like how the breeze felt at all.

* * *

They didn’t waste any time taking off in pursuit. Sandy picked up a fresh trail of Nightmare Sand, and the Guardians shot out into the night, North and Bunny brought along for the ride by a cloud of Dreamsand. The oppressive atmosphere in the air left even Jack’s skin clammy as they darted under tree branches and through patches of moonlight. The deeper they dived into the woods, the darker the presence of fear became, and Tooth hugged herself as she flew.

After some time, Sandy pulled to a stop, jostling North and Bunny in the inertia. Jack flew up to Sandy’s side. “What’s the matter?”

Sandy frowned, pointing down at the ground. Golden sand formed a single arrow, which then split into many. Sure enough, if Jack squinted, he could see patches of Nightmare Sand across the remains of slush: darker than the darkness and scattered across the earth like morbid glitter. Whatever trail they had been following had split into several, and it seemed impossible to figure out which one to follow.

“So we thinkin’ there was a lot of ‘em who snatched her and then they split up?” Bunny asked. He still looked queasy from the ride, but he hopped off the Dreamsand cloud, careful not to smudge and of the Fearlings’ tracks. Sandy considered it for a moment, then shook his head.

“I thinking that we would have sensed something that big,” North said. “One Nightmare might sneak under radar. Several?”

It was less likely—no matter how strong the presence of fear had been in Madeline’s home, it wouldn’t be near enough to cover up a full herd of Nightmares. “So where do we go?” Tooth asked. She was picking at her feathers again, unable to hide the nervous twitch. “We don’t know what trail to follow. And it’s not so easy as to latch onto her thread of belief. Even this far out from Burgess, it’ll be hard to pick out her belief from all the kids’.”

The silence of defeat was all the worse for the lack of any other sound. The usual chitters and rustles of nocturnal woodland animals Jack had gotten used to were absent, not willing to come any closer to where the Fearlings had gathered. Their presence felt more twisted than ever, as if even the scant grands of Nightmare Sand could let off such power.

Sandy bolted upright, a finger poised towards the air. We waved for the others to follow, zooming off without any other indication. The Dreamsand cloud followed him, Bunny’s yelp of surprise lost in the doppler effect. Jack and Tooth didn’t waste any time in joining them, and it took mere moments for them to recognize what Sandy was after: the fear infused in the air became thicker every second, an even purer form than the Nightmare Sand itself.

_This feels just like when the Nightmares were overrunning Burgess…_

Jack gripped his staff tighter, and his preparation wasn’t in vain. Sandy came to a halt, and shrouded in the shadows, away from any patches of moonlight, was Pitch Black. It had only been days, so much change in his appearance couldn’t be expected. Same dark, unkempt hair, matching the coal color of his cloak, stone colored skin, and, the one not monochrome part of him, golden eyes. That was where the difference was; when Jack had last seen Pitch Black, his expression had been permeated with the very fear he had set out to cause.

With days since then, Pitch had managed to regain his swagger, and the Boogeyman stood tall, a thick aura of power around him to show that confidence was well-shown.

“Goodness,” Pitch said, and Jack repressed a shudder at the sound, “you Guardians sure are acting fast. I haven’t even gone and done anything yet.”

Jack bared his staff, the anger and protectiveness he had suppressed upon checking in with the Bennet siblings bubbling up again. Bunny hopped off the sand cloud, paws crackling the underbrush where he landed, and advanced alongside Jack, a boomerang in hand. “Are you telling me that what you showing up in Jamie and Sophie’s house was nothing?” he asked, eyes narrowed.

Pitch didn’t even look surprised that Jack knew. “As your little lookout has probably already told you, I didn’t linger. I even took the Nightmare with me.” Pitch raised a hand, and Nightmare Sand slithered between his fingers. Given that it meant he _had_ regained control of the Fearlings, Jack didn’t feel much assured. “Or are you just planning on taking preemptive measures again? Is it too much for you Guardians for children to even know I exist?” No matter how casual a tone he was taking, Jack couldn’t miss the venom in those words.

“It’s too much when ya start kidnappin’ grown women from their homes,” Bunny said, eyes tracking the path of the Nightmare Sand. Not knowing just how much Pitch’s strength had grown, even if they felt a definite increase, made taking any sudden moves a stupid risk. “Last I checked, that’s not even close to what you’re supposed to do, ya git.”

A quizzical look crossed Pitch’s face. “What sort of delusions are you going on about now? Are you that desperate for a reason to come after me, rabbit? Why not just use the same excuses you always have? No need to change the same old routine that’s worked for centuries.”

Bunny tensed up enough to let Jack know he was about to charge, and Jack started to call on what remains of winter were still in the air, dropping the already chilly temperature farther. Behind them was the scrape of metal from North unsheathing his swords. Even Sandy’s small fists were balled in determination to fight, but Tooth brought herself forward, right between Pitch and the rest of the Guardians.

“We’re talking about Madeline,” she said. Her wings caught shimmers of the moonlight. “Just because she’s not a child doesn’t mean we won’t protect her. What did you do to her?”

“What does that blasted woman have to do with any of this?”

Bunny scowled. “Ya tell us. Yer the one who took her.”

“I did no such thing.” Pitch was a master of weaving lies to suit his needs; Jack had been on the receiving end of his words before and knew just how slippery the Boogeyman’s tongue was. But even with that wariness, the declaration didn’t seem false. “I did more than enough to cement that woman’s fear in me. Kidnapping her is an unnecessary technique.”

“So you admit you were there,” North said. Pitch shrugged, not seeing a need to deny it. There was too much evidence stacked up against him in any event. Even with his bulk, North was able to almost glide across the cluttered forest ground. He circled around Pitch’s side, and Sandy took the clue to flank the Boogeyman from the opposite end. “What you did created many scars, Pitch Black.”

Pitch sighed, sounding as bored as ever and paying no heed to the Guardians circling him. “Well I wasn’t going to get a reliable source of fear by being gentle.” Bunny muttered curses under his breath. “That woman can’t keep her mouth shut, can she? I’m sure she told you as much as she could. Just what do you plan on getting out of interrogating me like this?”

“She didn’t get to tell us just what you did before you left, considering one of your Nightmares kidnapped her,” Jack said. Dreamsand spread out, casting a golden glow over the ground, contrasting with the dark, writhing tendrils of Nightmare Sand. “That’s a bit sloppy for you, Pitch. We already knew you were there, why make it worse for yourself?”

“One of the Nightmares?” Jack tried to convince himself that it was his imagination, but there was enough incredulousness in Pitch’s tone that seemed too uneven to be faked. Pitch scowled, his glare unfocusing from the Guardians for a moment. “That’s troublesome,” he said, his expression not improving in the slightest. “I didn’t order any such thing, but you’re right that a Nightmare has taken the woman captive. No wonder her fear response was higher than expected.”

Bunny stomped against the ground, one step away from lunging. “‘Didn’t order any such thing,’ my foot—”

“Hold on.” Jack threw out his hand, catching onto Bunny’s arm. The Guardian of Hope’s nose curled, but he waited for an explanation. “I think he’s telling the truth.”

“Are you sure, Jack?” Tooth asked. Her wings were tenser, ready to strike if necessary, but she still seemed hesitant. Having come from a big battle not even a week ago, no one wanted to launch into another fresh confrontation, not even Bunny. “We can’t take the chance if he’s lying. We need to take care of Madeline.”

“I know.” That didn’t change the feeling in Jack’s gut, so similar to what he’d felt at the South Pole. Even if Jack had distinguished himself from Pitch then, that didn’t change the fact that Jack saw traces of himself in the Boogeyman. Jack stared Pitch straight on. “You found it, didn’t you?”

_You found what you were looking for, right?_

The other Guardians didn’t interrupt, letting Jack handle the situation, but Pitch didn’t say anything, either. Maybe Pitch didn’t recognize it, but Jack did. Things were different when you had someone who believed in you, no matter what, even when there was no chance otherwise. For Jack, that first person had been Jamie. So maybe, for Pitch—

“Madeline believes in you,” Jack said, stepping around Tooth. “You can feel her, right? Point us in the right direction, so we can help her. We’ll leave you alone if you do.”

“Careful,” Bunny said, while Sandy mimed the same sentiment.

Jack knew there wasn’t any reason to be worried, though. Not after everything. Pitch wouldn’t let go of someone who believed in him—his lifeline—unless there was no other option, and maybe even not then. Getting temporary reprieve from his enemies would just be a bonus. “You said it yourself; you did enough to make her afraid of you.” The thought twisted at Jack’s newfound instincts as a Guardian, as well as his normal sensibilities, but Pitch played more in cold logic than emotions. “Why risk that by leaving her somewhere she might not be able to survive?”

Tooth bit at her nails, North and Bunny didn’t relax their stances, and even Jack held his breath. Sandy was the only one who had a smile, as if he had realized what Jack was aiming at. At last Pitch raised a hand, and Jack jumped to raise his staff, but the Boogeyman’s ash colored finger only pointed past North, into the trees. Bunny did a double-take, and Tooth zipped off before anyone could say otherwise, crashing through the trees. Deciding that immediate action was better than waiting for the situation to worsen, the others followed in her wake. Jack started off, but looked over his shoulder at Pitch, contemplating whether to press further with the others gone.

“Thanks,” Jack said instead. “She’ll be safe now.”

Pitch let out a quiet snort. “Keeping people safe isn’t what I do, Frost.”

“Well, it’s what we do, so no need to worry.” And before the Guardians could get too far without him, Jack lifted himself into the air and flew after them.


	10. Chapter Nine: Strength

**Strength**

By: Aviantei

Chapter Nine: Strength

* * *

Toothiana might have been leading the charge through the woods, but Sanderson Mansnoozie was almost about to overtake her. Pitch’s direction had been accurate—now that he knew where to look, Sandy could feel the shuddering sensation of concentrated Nightmare Sand in clarity—but Tooth didn’t possess the same senses, and there was a chance she might go astray. Tooth must’ve realized it, and she let Sandy pass by, the Sandman trailing a glittering thread of Dreamsand for the others to follow.

Other sources of fear flared in Sandy’s peripheral. He ignored the other rampant Fearlings and stayed focused on the real target. Antithesis to his own Dreams as they were, Madeline was the goal. The same as the others, Sandy had felt the tear in her center, and his specialty meant he could tell part of the cause had been from a bad dream. Putting Pitch’s role in the situation aside, the last thing the woman needed was to be trapped in the presence of a Nightmare.

Even though Madeline believed in him—in all the Guardians, it seemed—Sandy hadn’t been able to do anything to help her. For so long, children had been their priority, but was that short period of human’s lifetimes all there was to childhood?

The faint spark that was Madeline’s Dreams flickered, and Sandy increased his speed until he was almost on top of the Nightmare Sand cluster.

It was worse than he had expected.

The woods hadn’t thinned in the slightest, but the trees were all buried in a swirling mass of dark sand. The whole mass smelled like it had been drenched in dirty lake water, and the sheer animosity that radiated off it would’ve made most people tremble, but Sandy had centuries of experience to strengthen his courage. He did stop, however, not wanting to come into immediate contact, and squinted through what little gaps in the sphere that he could. It was hard to see with nothing but shadows inside, but Sandy managed to catch a faint outline that felt like Madeline. There was a flash of movement, then the shape of a Nightmare took form and let out a shrieking squeal. Nightmare Sand surged away from the main body, and Sandy summoned his own Dreamsand whip, busting apart the projectiles before they could even get close.

“Sandy!”

Underbrush crackled, and trees creaked as the others charged forward, then came to a halt. The Nightmare snorted, agitated by the presence of so many Guardians, but retreated into its Nightmare Sand cloud when they didn’t make any further moves. “That doesn’t look good at all,” Tooth said, and Sandy flashed images at them, conveying that Madeline was inside. Tooth set herself in determination. “We can’t let her stay in there, then!”

“Can we safely burst cloud open?” North asked, inching closer. He extended one of his still drawn swords but didn’t touch it. Sandy didn’t dare move closer, afraid of causing a negative reaction upon contact with a substance that was his opposite. “Is one thing to go all out, but with Madeline inside…”

Bunnymund sniffed at the air, his expression contorting. “We don’t wanna mess with that thing, that’s fer sure,” he said. “For all we know, Pitch was setting us up, and this bloody thing’s a giant trap.”

“We can’t just leave her here, though,” Jack said. He gestured with his staff, snow white hair still shimmering, despite the growing shadows. A bright beacon in the darkness, perfect and becoming of the Guardian he deserved to be. “I don’t think this is a trap, but, even if it is, that doesn’t matter! I promised to help her, so we’re not leaving without her.”

“I didn’t say we were gonna abandon her.” Bunny twitched his whiskers, looking at the Nightmare cloud with a distant expression. “Bonkers Sheila hasn’t given up Hope, even in all that. There’s no way I’d turn my back on that.”

North crept up on the swirling Nightmare Sand with a level of grace the average bystander may not have expected the man capable of. He, too, kept his distance, but a frown formed in his beard and a crease appeared between his eyebrows. “It powerful. Almost as much as Easter,” he said, confirming what Sandy had already felt himself but not wanted to believe. “This dangerous. Won’t be easy to get past.”

Sandy added more shapes to the air, conveying that he agreed. Such a fear would have easily overtaken a child. Even if Madeline was an adult, with her vulnerable state it was incredible that she hadn’t broken completely.

_But how long will that hold up?_

“What can we do?’ Tooth asked, slicking back the feathers along her arms. It had been some time since Sandy had seen her so nervous. “If Madeline’s trapped in there, she needs to get out. But it’s everything I can do to just _sense_ her. I don’t think there’s a way to save her without being close to her.” The sand continued to swirl, a flash of the Nightmare’s eyes deep in the darkness indicating that it hadn’t forgotten the Guardians were there. It was just as calculating as the man who had spawned it.

Bunny glowered at the sand, but he didn’t dare make any reckless moves. Beside him, Jack was clutching his staff, a worried look distorting his usual cheerful expression. Though adults didn’t fall in the Guardians’ range of expertise, it seemed they were all united in trying to find a way to help Madeline.

“What I wanna know is how that thing’s so bloody powerful,” Bunny said, his nose twitching. “I know that bugger Pitch got some of his power back ‘cause Sheila here still believes in him, but this is out of control.”

_Almost stronger than Easter, _Sandy signed. After his time trapped in the depths of the Nightmares, he could confirm that with certainty.

North’s frown only deepened. “How did Nightmare get so much power?”

“Well,” said an all-too familiar voice from the shadows behind them, “this one’s a special case, if I must say so.” As one, the Guardians all moved. Sandy rematerialized his Dreamsand whips, North’s sword scraped as he pulled it from the scabbard, Toothiana’s wings kicked up a small breeze as they sped up, Bunny’s ears had perked upwards, and Jack had raised his staff. Despite the less than warm welcome, Pitch didn’t seem the slightest bit concerned, his dark form gliding across the forest floor. “Do calm yourselves. I’m not here to fight you.”

“Yeah, and I’ll believe that when there ain’t a giant cloud of yer Nightmare sand holding someone hostage,” Bunny said, not relaxing his stance in the slightest. He jerked his head back at said sand without once taking his eyes off Pitch. “This mess has Boogeyman written all over it, mate. I’d like to hear ya explain yourself out of this one.”

Pitch said. No matter how many times they faced off, Sandy would never get over how the Boogeyman could manage to sound bored, no matter the situation. “If I did this, I certainly would’ve hidden it somewhere you lot wouldn’t come across it so easily.” Bunny snorted, and, beside Sandy, North remained tense. “We’ve already discussed this, so I won’t bother to argue for my innocence. I should know better when dealing with the Guardians.”

“There still chance that this is trap, no?” North asked. The sifting of the swirling sands provided the only noise in the woods, any nocturnal wildlife scared off by the Nightmare’s presence. “You act uninvolved, but you can still use that Nightmare’s power against us.”

“Hm, while that would be nice, that’s not quite the case.” Sandy blinked at the admission, and Jack started to lower his staff. Even Bunny’s mouth seemed stunned shut, though it would have made much more sense if the words were lies. Pitch approached the Nightmare Sand, keeping a wide birth from the Guardians. “This Nightmare has been a troublesome one. It seems to think it can keep all that fear to itself.”

“What’s happening to Madeline?” Tooth asked, the question bursting out of her lips. It seemed that concern had overridden her initial instinct. Sandy felt much the same, but he didn’t dispel his weapons. Pitch was there, right within the reach of his whips, and keeping them summoned was the only way Sandy could assure the Boogeyman wouldn’t make any sudden moves. “Why did that Fearling go after her.”

Pitch had stopped a foot away from the sand cloud. He wasn’t even bothering to look at the Guardians, but they all knew better than to launch into battle when the Nightmare King had such a ready source of fear near him. “I suppose in some ways, you could say I caused this.”

“Shocker,” Bunny said under his breath.

“As you mentioned before, my influence left several scars,” Pitch continued, not even bothering to acknowledge the interruption. “That on its own was enough to give me a power boost, and the Nightmares with it. This one seems to have wanted to push that further.” He turned to face the Guardians, his eyes so close to the gold of the Dreamsand, but so far away. “It took what I did and set that fear even further. It’s getting strength from both my bolstered power and by tapping into that woman’s fear directly.”

The Guardians exchanged looks. Though they used words more than Sandy did, he could still see the signs of conflict on their shadowy expressions. If what Pitch was saying was the truth, then they had a clue for how to counter what was happened—assuming it _was_ the truth. If not, they’d be stuck in the same problem, not to mention wasting their time on trying to find a solution to a ruse.

“I will say that I’m impressed by what it’s done, though,” Pitch said, his voice a bit too loud to be just musing to himself. He lifted an arm, and Sandy prepared himself, but all Pitch did was brush his fingers against the sand. The Fearling inside didn’t so much as stir. “I doubt that even you Guardians would be able to make it past this without taking on some damages.”

“Alright,” Bunny said, stomping forward, “I’ve had enough of yer—”

Sandy held up a hand, shaking his head. He didn’t want to admit it, but Pitch was right. Sandy didn’t think he could break through the barrier, not without pulling away the power from his Dreamsand around the world. And while protecting one person was just as important as children around the globe, there were still uncertainties. Would Madeline even react to the Guardians the same way? Belief or no, she still held some sensibilities of adulthood. There was no predicting how likely their success would be.

“Well, if the Guardians can’t do it, how about you?” It didn’t surprise Sandy in the slightest that Jack was the one who’d said it. The boy stepped forward, not even bothering to hold his staff in a defensive form any more, and the wood dragged against the ground. “I can get that the Nightmare would want to keep us out, but you’re a different story, right?”

Pitch met Jack’s earnest expression with an even, calculating look. “How about it, Pitch?” North asked. Bunny didn’t look satisfied by the question, but he seemed to understand the situation they were in enough not to protest. “Surely title of Nightmare King not just for show?”

“You’re not incorrect, boy,” Pitch said, still looking at Jack. Pitch lowered his hand, obsidian grains of sand coming away with his fingers. “While this Nightmare certainly is putting up an effort to keep others out, it’s only enough to repel others of its kind. With a little effort, I could work my way in easily.”

“Then do it,” Tooth said, hovering next to Jack’s side. “I don’t want to admit this any more than the others do, but you’re Madeline’s best shot.” Just saying it was enough to make even Sandy grimace. But it was true. “Like Jack said before, she won’t do you much good if you let that Nightmare keep her out here. She could _die_ in this cold, so please—”

Tooth seemed to catch herself, biting her tongue. Guilt washed over her face, the same regret of needing to ask the Nightmare King for help that seemed to be crossing the rest of the Guardians’ minds. But what other choice did they have? Sandy didn’t thing she was _wrong_, but he didn’t think he could have suggested the idea himself.

Jack sucked in a deep breath. “Pitch—”

“Goodness, having two of the Guardians ask me for a favor. What an unusual state of affairs.” Despite his choice of words, Pitch’s tone didn’t sound as scathing as it had in the past. “Save me your pathetic requests. I came here because I realized you wouldn’t be able to handle this situation.” He waved his had through the air in a dismissive gesture and turned to face the Nightmare Sand again. “Move on, I’ll handle this.”

Bunny bristled. “Now if ya think we’re just going ta—”

Before he could complete the sentence, the sand surged, a great shadow in the trees. Sandy threw up a Dreamsand barrier, North raised his arms over his face with swords still in hand, and Jack stabbed his staff into the ground, his free hand grabbing onto Toothiana for support.

Then the great gust of wind faded, and Bunny spat dirt from his mouth as Sandy lowered his shield. Pitch was no longer there, the Boogeyman disappeared to the darkness. “Will this be okay?” North asked, still looking too stunned to put his blades away.

“It’ll be fine,” Jack said, sounding far more confident than the rest of the Guardians could muster. “Madeline believes in Pitch. He won’t lose her so easily.”

Sandy just hoped Jack was right.

* * *

Madeline gasped for air, trying to calm herself after the latest slew of nightmares. Her dreams had gone beyond the one she’d had at Pitch’s prompting, escalating to even worse images. Unlike the dark forms of the Nightmares, the children in her dreams were real and alive. She had to watch them as they fell, as she couldn’t save them—

That wasn’t all. She had to watch herself fall, unending, relentless. She had to feel the unbearable pain, sharp as the day she’d first shattered her leg, except she didn’t black out. When she looked at her leg, it was still in one piece, but for how much longer? For the moment she lied on the ground, cold against her back, and sunk into the shadows around her, but it would break again, soon enough, the same things on an endless loop until she lost her mind.

With her heart already torn open once before, it was simple for the terror to work its way back in. Even breathing didn’t do her any good. She could hardly think, let alone pull her state of mind back together. Everything was overwhelming, why couldn’t the world just_ stop_—

“This is your fault, you know.”

Madeline jumped at the familiar voice, trying to force down the automatic flight instinct that blossomed inside her. The landscape around her had melted into a faint gray, like the sky before the dead of night. The shadow of Pitch loomed over her, his already lanky height seeming all the more impressive thanks to the perspective. Madeline couldn’t quite stifle her scream.

“Good,” Pitch said, dragging the syllable out. In the darkness, the luster of his eyes shimmered ever brighter—and that made it hurt even more that he didn’t seem to care the state Madeline was in, though he could no doubt sense it. “That’s the reaction you ought to have. When you fear me, everything is as it should be.”

“Why?!” She couldn’t care that she sounded like a crying little girl. That was how Madeline felt, as if the terror had stripped away the years of adulthood and reverted her back to a child. “Why do you keep doing this? Why do you keep making it worse when you don’t need to?!” Her breaths sounded broken, great, gasping things that resounded like shattered glass.

Pitch cocked his head at her, but the show of curiosity didn’t reach his face. “I’ve told you enough, you foolish woman. When you’re afraid of me, it gives me power. It makes me _stronger_. What else could I need?”

She grasped at the shadowy ground, only feeling the sensation of sand between her fingers, the same as the Nightmares. She started to scoot backwards without even thinking about it, a part of her desperate to get away. “That’s not—”

“Spare me your niceties,” Pitch said, but his voice came from behind her. Madeline collided with another body, the rough fabric of Pitch’s cloak against his long legs. Except he was still in front of her, watching with malicious amusement in his expression. Madeline looked up, her second scream stuck in her throat as she realized there were two of him. “You can continue your foolish trust of me all you like. But look at where it got you.” The second Pitch swept his arm, indicating the darkness around him. “Trapped, afraid, and broken. If you keep this up, it’ll only end up worse for you.”

“Wouldn’t it be much nicer to stop setting yourself up for heartbreak?” the first Pitch said, slithering closer. The second Pitch’s hands dropped onto Madeline’s shoulders—not anything forceful that would prevent her from breaking away, but the cold touch paralyzed her nonetheless. The first Pitch held out his hand, offering dark salvation. “Just give into the fear, Madeline. Accept it. When you let it pull you under, you’ll understand.”

Madeline shook her head, sending her loose hair flying. “That’s not right,” she managed to say, her voice little more than a whisper. “Fear isn’t meant to consume you.”

“So then you just trust fear and let it do whatever it wants?” The second Pitch’s voice was close to her ear, and Madeline swallowed, too overwhelmed to give a retort. “Oh, you can trust me all you want. But I’ll break that optimism of yours as many times as I must. Is that what you want?”

“Or,” the first Pitch said, at last leaning down before her, “will you cooperate with me and keep some semblance of your sanity intact? If you think what I did before was the full extent of my abilities, you’re sorely mistaken. I can pull terror up from the deepest depths of your soul.”

“I can plunge you into the pits of despair.”

“I can take _everything_ from you, and I will if that’s what’s necessary to assure my strength—”

“That’s not what being strong is at all!”

Her shout seemed to stun them both into silence, if only for the moment. She still felt weak, still felt terrified, but something inside her center seemed to still be in one piece. It had bent, but it hadn’t broken. Before either Pitch could pose a rejoinder, Madeline clenched her hands into fists and forced herself to continue.

“You keep talking about wanting your power back, but that’s not what being strong is!” The thoughts that she’d hesitated to voice before rolled off her tongue. “Strength is when you have faith and overcome the challenges in front of you. Strength is when you pick yourself back up even after everything seems hopeless. Strength is wanting to better yourself and not letting adversity stand in your way. And fear—”

One of the Pitches barked out a harsh laugh—or perhaps it was them both—at the sheer audacity of a human explaining fear to the _Boogeyman_, but Madeline didn’t let that stop her.

“Fear is a way to keep ourselves safe. It’s a way to know when we’ve encountered something that we may not be ready for. It’s to _help_ people, Pitch, not this—this—whatever you’ve been doing. Terrorizing people? Tearing my soul apart? Is that what you really want?!”

Pitch’s hands tightened on her shoulders, and his voice emerged in a dangerous growl, “Don’t lecture me about what I want. You wouldn’t understand—”

Despite feeling like the Nightmare Sand wanted to suck her under its surface, Madeline jumped to her feet. Her body felt light, as if she’d freed herself from something dark inside of her. She just needed to do the same for Pitch. “I understand enough to know that you’re lonely. That you feel scared, too.” Both Nightmare Kings stared at her, baffled, not so different from the uncertain children who didn’t know if they could ride a horse. Madeline smiled. “I know that you don’t want to lose or appear weak. I know that you don’t want anyone to forget you.”

The shadows around them seemed lighter, as if they were trying to escape from her optimism. It made it easier to see the conflict in both Pitch’s eyes, flickering in that beautiful gold she loved. “I’m here,” she said, serenity spreading throughout her body. “I remember you, Pitch. I believe in you, even if it seems silly. You don’t have to worry about me going away. I’ll admit I’m somewhat scared of you, but you’re worth more to me than that.”

Madeline knelt between them, taking one of each Pitch’s hands between her own. Her warm skin met his cold, but she accepted them both. Fear and trust could coexist—she had decided that much. _I won’t let you go,_ she promised, hoping that some of that managed to reach Pitch’s heart, where something had torn at his soul, too.

She closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, the two Pitches were gone, and one sat in their place. The world around them had lightened further, looking almost like the faint purple-gray haze of a sky at twilight. “You’re unbelievable,” Pitch said, all the bite gone from his voice. In fact, Madeline heard something almost like gentle laughter in his words. “I came in here to pull you away from this nonsense, but you did it yourself.”

“That’s because I trusted you.” Madeline squeezed Pitch’s hands, enjoying the feel of his long fingers between hers. “I know you think I’m foolish, but I was paying attention when we talked. I could tell.” She didn’t need to say what. She could tell by his face that Pitch understood.

“You’re not planning on going back on those words, are you?” She hated the way he asked it—with hurt, with suspicion. “If I rely on you to believe in me, I expect you to hold to your words. I make no promises for my behavior if you decide to finally grow up and start thinking like an adult.”

Madeline laughed, joy somehow surging up from the wreckage of her emotions. “I’m not as clever as you, Pitch. I wouldn’t think of something so complicated.” Not wanting to break the comfortable balance they’d made, Madeline didn’t move other than to look Pitch in the eyes. “I meant it. I’ll always believe in you. You’re welcome in my home any time.” And, maybe, she wished, she’d be able to show him what he meant to her when he visited. “So don’t be…a stranger…”

Just as the happiness emerged inside of her, so did exhaustion. She’d long lost track of what was the waking world and what had been pieces of a dream, but the mental toll was undeniable nonetheless. She thought she saw Pitch smile, but her eyes were drooping shut, refusing to stay open. Even so, she caught the sound of his voice, at last soothing.

“Rest well, Madeline.”

If nothing else, she caught the near affectionate way he said her name. It was enough to put a grin on her face, even as she fell asleep.

As the dark of night started to grow into daybreak, Pitch cradled Madeline in his arms as he carried her home.


	11. Epilogue: Belief

**Strength**

By: Aviantei

Epilogue: Belief

* * *

Spring had arrived in Burgess in earnest, but the cool weather in the Huangshan mountains was a far cry from that warmth. The night was already dark, and the hazy sheen of clouds over the sky just deepened the shadows even more. Pitch stood for several long minutes—they felt like hours—staring at the cliff face that contained the Tooth Palace. The scent of fresh rain brought even the sleeping world around him to life, the occasional sparkle of one of the mini fairies returning home flashing through the night.

It was different, from the last time he’d stood outside the Tooth Palace, mere weeks ago. Then, he’d been ready to storm the place, Nightmares bolstering his conquest. And though the Nightmares were still under his power, they were scattered amongst the world, collecting fear as he had created them to do, though it was a paltry amount in comparison to what he’d once envisioned.

Chasing the thoughts out, Pitch crossed to one of the Palace’s entrances, choosing to enter upfront. Sneaking in would raise suspicion, and that was counterproductive to his goals. His footsteps seemed miniscule in the gaping space of the Palace, and he only had a moment to take note of the way Toothiana’s seven pillars of the world glowed in the darkness before the mini fairies noticed him.

One by one, the fairies let out cries of alarm, their small voices crescendoing into the cacophony of thousands of upset hummingbirds. Pitch stopped his advance, but didn’t retreat, either. Let the little ones uproar all they wanted. They weren’t what he was there for.

Toothiana’s magic erupted in the center of the Palace as she shot towards Pitch, wings buzzing. There was an unmistakable fury in her eyes, and, after he’d held her mini fairies ransom not even a month before, Pitch didn’t blame her. It was an outright miracle that she didn’t attack him straight off.

“Why are you here?” she asked, sounding much steadier than she looked. A thin coil of defensive panic coiled around her resolve, but Pitch knew better than to underestimate her; she could incapacitate him at a moment’s notice if he let his guard down. “If you don’t have a good reason, then—” She stopped herself, as if not knowing what the suitable response was.

That moment of hesitation was all he needed.

“I simply have a request,” he said, making sure to keep from making any sudden movements. In her state of unease, Toothiana was liable to mistake even the slightest of twitches for an attack. “One that you’re free to refuse, naturally.”

“A request isn’t like you.”

“Funny, I was thinking the same thing about you listening to me.” Toothiana grimaced, a strange mix of emotions crossing her face. Pitch shrugged, not caring to dissect her insecurities for the moment. “But we’re diverging away from my intended purpose. This is about Madeline.”

Her name felt strange but calming on his lips. Some of the tension melted away from Toothiana’s shoulders, and the surrounding mini fairies watched their leader with confusion. “We didn’t…” Toothiana let out a sigh, not quite meeting Pitch’s eyes. “I didn’t get the chance to thank you. For saving her.”

The apology seemed unnecessary considering that Pitch hadn’t been expecting any form of thanks in the first place, nor had he given the Guardians time for any such thing. He’d slipped into Madeline’s consciousness and met her there, the place where she’d worked her way free of the Nightmare’s influence. After that, he’d taken her straight home, though Jack Frost had tried to follow. Pitch hadn’t let the boy say anything, either. When Madeline was safe, Pitch’s job had been done, and so he’d left.

Pitch allowed himself a fraction of a smirk. “Now, now, it won’t do any good if the Guardians started thanking me.” Despite the faint taunt, Toothiana had begun to relax, her feathers retreating from their poofed-up state. The caution in her hadn’t disappeared, but she was much more at ease. “I’m here because I want to know if there’s a clue as to why that woman could see us.”

He’d said _us_, but he meant himself. After all, despite her promises, there was still the chance that Madeline would one day forget—that was his own fear that hadn’t faded. That fear was why he hadn’t gone back to see her, because he couldn’t risk it. The idea of appearing in front of her and not having her see him affected him more than he was willing to admit.

Toothiana didn’t seem to catch onto Pitch’s concerns, blinking as an altogether different realization came to her. “And you think the clue might be in her memories.” A couple of the mini fairies shot off into the palace at a silent command, though the rest remained as a sort of guard against their unexpected guest. A grin started to form on Toothiana’s face, giddiness overtaking the hardened warrior Pitch most often saw. “I’m not sure if there will be anything but I certainly can check. Oh, thank you.”

The mini fairies had returned, carrying a golden Tooth Box between them. Toothiana took it delicately in her hands, muttering to herself as her magic seeped back into the air. Unlike her explosion of anger before, it was a gentle, warming sensation, even from several feet away where Pitch stood. He watched, knowing that nothing he did would speed up the process.

“Oh, there!” Toothiana said, the smile still on her lips. She looked up, the Tooth Box clutched between her thin fingers. “It’s a little bit further back, but it’s here. Why she remembers.”

“Is that so?” It took much more willpower than he would admit letting anything but abject curiosity to enter his voice. The answer was there, so close. If he could know, then he could make sure she wouldn’t—

“Well, yes.” Toothiana looked at the box between her hands, shining all the brighter thanks to the golden glow emanating from the palace’s very walls. Almost lost in thought, she whispered, “Normally these boxes can only show their memories to their owners or to me. But I think, this once, it would be okay.”

There were very few things that Pitch didn’t know about the Guardians after years of watching them as enemies, but it seemed that Toothiana still had tricks that he hadn’t managed to overcover after the centuries. “What are you talking about?”

Toothiana shook her head, her verdant feathers swaying with the movement. “I can’t explain it. It’s better if you just watch.”

Growing impatient, Pitch was about to insist on clarification—but the world shifted before that. The warm golden view of the Tooth Palace faded, condensing into a faint orb of light amongst the darkness. But Pitch’s night vision shot the world around him into clarity, finding what appeared to be a child’s bedroom, scattered books intermingling with the pieces of a play barn set on the floor. The light was, of all things, a night light, and he went to extinguish it on instinct before it flickered out.

That hadn’t been his power. He hadn’t been able to influence any of the dark around him. The space wasn’t real, it was a projection. Toothiana had used her magic of memories, one on the box. Then that meant—

A sliver of dim orange light formed on the wall in front of him, then grew wider as a door opened. Pitch turned around, and there she was: a small child with blonde hair cut to her shoulders and clutching a plush horse. Even if he hadn’t known, she was unmistakable as Madeline, especially by her bright green eyes.

The only thing that didn’t seem like her was the way she hesitated and whimpered when she looked in her bedroom, only to realize that the nightlight was out, and the room had gone dark. Pitch paused, not sure what to expect. After watching the woman fight her way out of her own nightmares and stand up to him, seeing Madeline be any form of timid seemed unnatural.

But she was still a child in this memory, not even looking like she’d reached age ten, and so she retreated from her own doorway. Pitch followed, seeing her venture down the dim-lit hallway, then turning the handle on the next door over, the plush horse flopping in her arms. The room she’d opened was likewise dark, but Madeline swallowed and made her way over to the bedside, her tiny hand grasping onto the sheet and shaking the figure underneath.

“Johan,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “_Johan._”

There was a groan, then a boy sat up in the blankets, several years older by the looks of him. He and Madeline had matching eyes, though his hair was a darker shade of gold than hers. Johan looked down at his younger sister as he attempted to blink the sleepiness from his eyes as the light from the hall shone on him. “What is it, Maddie?”

“My nightlight went out.” Madeline clutched onto her stuffed horse, her eyes not leaving her brother’s. “It’s scary. I don’t want to go to bed. I thought I saw something.” For a moment, Pitch wondered if she’d noticed them, then realized it was a memory and he was only there in spirit. “The other kids make fun of me, but I saw a monster once, I know it. It’ll come back if it’s dark, Johan.”

“Hush, I know,” Johan said, patting Madeline’s head. “But you know, you’re being rude. I bet those monsters just want a place to stay, too.”

Madeline frowned, but it just ended up looking like a pout on her small face. “You don’t believe me. Like Mom and Dad.”

“Hey, now.” Johan patted the bed beside him, and Madeline crawled up to sit by his side. Still in the doorway, Pitch inched closer, not even casting a shadow across the ground. “I do believe you. You’re special, Maddie. But I’m just sayin’ that the monsters won’t hurt you. Not if you don’t let them.”

“If I don’t…let them?” Madeline tilted her head, her tangled hair swaying,

Johan nodded with all the self-confidence of a young boy that believed in his own view of the world above all else. “Yeah. Monsters are scary, right? But they’re only scary because you don’t know about them. But if you stay scared, you can’t learn anything. You gotta go out of your comfort zone.”

Pitch couldn’t tell if the child was genuine or just spinning a story to assure his sister, but it didn’t seem to matter. “But aren’t things scary because they’re bad?”

“Not always. Sometimes things are scary because you need to be cautious and stay safe. But other times they’re scary because you haven’t given them a chance.” He grinned. “I decided to trust the monsters, and everything turned out okay. That’s why I don’t have a nightlight anymore. But I still believe in them, no matter what anyone else says. So you can, too.”

Madeline thought the words over for a long time, her small brow furrowed. At last she pulled her chin up from the plush horse and looked at her brother.

“You’re weird, Johan.”

“Okay, ouch—”

“But I think you’re right. Maybe the monsters aren’t scary…”

Johan patted Madeline’s head again, pushing the bangs out of her eyes. “Atta girl, Maddie.”

“But can I still sleep with you?”

“Yeah, okay.”

Pitch didn’t even notice the memory was starting to fade until he blinked, and then Madeline and Johan’s shapes slipped away until the world was bright again in the glowing halls of the Tooth Palace. Toothiana was watching him, along with the collected mini fairies, but Pitch didn’t have anything to say to them. After all, it had been so simple, someone telling her it was okay to believe in monsters.

Someone telling her it was okay to believe in him.

“Pitch?” Toothiana asked, Madeline’s Tooth Box still in her hands, though the lid was shut tight. “Do you want me to make her remember? I could, as thanks—”

“There’s no need for that,” he said, turning on his heel for the exit. “I just wanted to know, and now I do.” Pitch thought about thanking her, but the idea of showing gratitude to a Guardian was something his pride would not yet allow. “There was nothing to worry about after all.”

“Pitch, wait—”

Toothiana’s voice slipped away as Pitch sunk back into the shadows, connecting to the darkness in the world. He’d been avoiding the woman, but for what? Because he thought it might have been a joke, that she wouldn’t be able to see him like the adult she was? As if Madeline would ever follow something as rigid as logic or rational thought.

With the belief she had in him, it took mere seconds for him to flash across the world, away from the night over the mountains and to the day shining over the countryside. He’d wanted more—and part of him would always long for that recognition—but for the moment, Pitch felt a strange sense of content settle into his chest.

Because so long as one person believed, that would be enough.

And following the thread of belief that tied them together, Pitch raised his hand to knock on her door.


	12. Bonus Episodes: "Contentment" and "Courage"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a finale for this fic, I took some requests on the fanfiction.net version. These scenarios were at the request of BlackMoonsDaughter and punktrashnoiz respectively, and they're both canon.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

**Strength**

By: Aviantei

Bonus Episode: Contentment

* * *

The press of warm sun against her eyelids stirred Madeline from her sleep, and she allowed herself the rare luxury of not waking up before dawn and staying curled up in bed. She shifted a bit, pulling her blanket closer and letting out a happy sigh before opening her eyes. Based on the light creeping into the room from around the curtains and the chirping of birds outside, it was still early morning, but her usual routine tended to dictate that she’d already be out in the barn, getting the horses ready for the day to come.

Today, however, was a special day.

After a few more moments of rolling about, Madeline got up from bed, stretched the kinks out of her muscles, and finished getting ready. Since winter had at last faded into spring proper, she didn’t need any bulky layers to stay cozy. Even so, long sleeves didn’t do any harm, and she slipped on a dark green shirt and pair of jeans not decimated by hours of fieldwork. Halfway to tucking her hair up into its customary bun, she stopped and let the dirty blonde strands hand loose for the day, brushing past her shoulders.

Next came preparing breakfast. Madeline hummed along to the radio with a bit more vigor than usual as biscuits baked in the oven, bacon sizzled in the pan, and gravy started to form. Water came to a boil in its teapot, ultimately adding a sharp whistle to the music. When everything was ready and Madeline turned around to set the table, she wasn’t surprised in the slightest to see that Pitch had let himself in and was already in his designated spot across from hers.

“Good morning, Pitch,” Madeline said, serving breakfast with a flourish.

“Good morning, Madeline,” Pitch said with mock disdain, though Madeline could see the upward quirk of his lips.

Madeline tucked into her meal, flicking her hair out of her face. “So? How was your week?” She enjoyed how the simplicity of the question contrasted against the abnormality of the Boogeyman’s routine. She enjoyed hearing the stories of the places Pitch had gone in the world, seeking out children, how he’d started to work so that his powers did a little more than just sowed fear into everyone’s hearts. Even though she had no right to be, Madeline felt proud of him.

So she listened as Pitch answered her questions, and she did the same when he asked about her days as well.

* * *

Madeline had already accepted that she couldn’t have all of Pitch’s free time to herself. She had also accepted it would be difficult to even have anything close to regular visits together. But when she’d suggested that they at least meet up every once and a while, Pitch had easily agreed and even started to stop by once a week, on her off days. It seemed that even the Boogeyman could take personal time, and he was still cultivating Madeline’s belief in him, so things worked out rather well for both of them.

Those days were peaceful. Madeline’s staff came in and took care of the horses, while she was allowed a day to rest and enjoy Pitch’s company. They tended not to do anything too out of the ordinary. Somedays, they would talk about whatever came to mind. Other days, they would settle down to read books by each other’s side and let the day pass into evening without a fuss. Whatever they did, Madeline would always take the time to cook, alternating between childhood staples and trying out new adventurous dishes after Pitch had mentioned traveling to some country or another.

Just like the days in the many weeks that had come beforehand, that day passed without any incident. Pitch hadn’t had too complicated of a week, save for a few moments of crossing paths with the Guardians, but none of that had escalated. So they went for a walk together around the edge of Madeline’s property, side by side, and enjoyed the relaxing presence of nature. Pitch handled the sunlight much better than his grey complexion suggested, and they’d wasted away the hours until lunch, then enjoyed resting in the living room, exchanging the occasional words. If Madeline had her way, the day would last forever, but soon the setting sun was casting shadows through the sliding glass door and tinting the sky beyond into brilliant shades of red and orange and gold. Madeline and Pitch watched the day pass into dusk together, and then Pitch stood, Madeline following behind as she walked him to the door.

“I have the same day off next week, so come back over,” Madeline said, trying not to fidget so much. With the fall of the sun came the chill of night, and she wanted to make sure Pitch stayed warm, even though his thick cloak prevented such concerns from harming him. “Don’t forget, okay?” She’d gotten into the habit of saying that, too, as a reassurance: _I won’t forget you, so don’t forget me, either._

“I won’t.” Though he stood ready at the door, Pitch didn’t move to open it. Madeline had noticed, even though she was sure Pitch didn’t think she had, that he had been lingering longer and longer when it was time to go. “You should also take the time to rest tomorrow, as well, even if I won’t be here to keep you in line.”

Madeline let out a nervous laugh, scratching at the back of her head. She couldn’t help if her active tendencies turned her into a workaholic at times. “I will, I will, so stop fussing.” Pitch’s golden eyes fell on her in skepticism, and Madeline laughed again. Part of her had insisted on running the horse farm by herself to prove that she was alright after everything that had happened, to discourage the concerned way her family looked at her—but having Pitch worry about her felt nice. “I promise I’ll be good, alright? So I shouldn’t hold you up from your work any longer, and…”

The words trailed out. Over the past few months, Madeline had been thinking. About how much she liked these quiet days together. About how she wished there were more of them. About how it would be nice if they could have longer than a handful of hours together. About how, in that first week of meeting her, how she’d enjoyed having someone around the house, even in the times where he was trying to hurt her over his misplaced sense of power.

_I always say I’m okay, but it’s gotten lonely living by myself out here._

Part of her wanted to invite Pitch to stay with her. To turn the unused, dusty guest room into his space. She’d thought about it several times, but it was the closest she’d ever gotten to saying the words out loud.

“It’s not like you to think so much before you speak,” Pitch said. He was still watching her, his careful gaze observing—though not without some hint of kindness. He must’ve had some idea of the swirl of emotions inside her, but he didn’t go out of his way to call them out. “I’d much rather you speak your mind with me then start to act like someone you’re not.”

“Right, sorry.” He was blunt, but the words still helped. Madeline sucked in a breath and looked back up to Pitch, her hands clasped tightly together behind her back. “Would it be alright if I hugged you?”

It wasn’t the biggest concern on her mind, but it was still there. Pitch looked baffled for a moment, in a way she hadn’t seen before, even with every other nonsensical thing they talked about. Even so, Madeline knew she hadn’t made the wrong choice in speaking. Pitch cleared out his throat, his brow furrowing into a tight V-shape.

“I don’t know why you’d want to do such a thing, but I wouldn’t turn it down if you insist.”

_There are much simpler ways to say yes, _Madeline thought, but she didn’t want to waste her breath on teasing him. She had already opened her arms and wrapped them around Pitch’s back, too short to reach up to his shoulders. She grinned into his rough cloak as it pressed against her cheek, and she caught the faintest smell of sand and soil mixed in with some other foreign scent she didn’t recognized but liked all the same.

Pitch sighed, but he didn’t push her off. Instead, he shifted a bit, so his own hands could rest on his shoulders. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t quite a hug in return; Madeline gave Pitch one last squeeze before stepping back. “Alright, I feel much better now! You get going, now. Oh, but if I hear you’re causing any trouble, you’re gonna get it next time you come back.”

“Duly noted.” Pitch chuckled, and the sound only made the warm feeling in Madeline’s chest grow. He opened the door, letting in the nip of night air, and stepped outside. Though she shivered a bit, Madeline didn’t shut the house back up, instead watching Pitch for as long as she could, until he turned to one with the shadows and became indistinguishable from the blackness.

And even though it wasn’t his territory whatsoever, Madeline was certain that Pitch knew the exact feeling contentment that filled her up and stayed with her from the time she went to bed, all the way until morning.

* * *

* * *

Bonus Episode: Courage

* * *

“You’re hesitating.”

Despite her normal unflappable attitude, Madeline flinched at the words. Her shoulders hunched inwards, as if trying to make herself smaller. Not having any sympathy for the attempt to hide, Claudia snorted, her golden tail flicking, even though she stood perfectly at wait otherwise. Pitch watched the pair with something like amusement and impatience, and the trembling threads of anxiety that resonated between him and Madeline didn’t help his mood—though he’d be perfectly satisfied if they were coming from anyone else.

On one of Madeline’s few days off in the busy summer season, they had taken to a place far out in the fields, where the amateur classes of child riders wouldn’t be. Pitch and Madeline had walked all the way out there, the saddled-up Claudia trotting by their side, even though the distance was several miles and the heat from the sun pressed down on them. Madeline had paused a few times, as if considering hopping up on horse’s back and riding the rest of the way, but she hadn’t.

And while Pitch understood Madeline’s feelings on the matter in a way more closely and intimately than anyone else could—because it was indeed fear that was plaguing her mind and causing her hesitation, and who else knew that better than he could—that didn’t mean he wasn’t tired of it.

“It’s not like you haven’t ridden a horse over the past seven years,” Pitch said, with his arms crossed. Comfort wasn’t something that fit naturally into his skillset, even with Madeline, and it wouldn’t help her if he coddled her. “You do it for lessons all the time.”

“Yes,” Madeline said, still sounding hesitant. She rested a hand on Claudia’s flank, fingers making almost instinctual strokes across the golden fur. Not once stopping her ministrations, Madeline turned to face Pitch fully, though her green eyes swam with uncertainty. With her hair tucked back in its customary bun and a pale blue t-shirt topping off her ensemble, she resembled the photos he’d seen of her younger riding days in everything but confidence level. “But I haven’t really gone riding for fun in a long time.”

“I’d gathered from the way you asked to do this.” _That_ was part of why Pitch didn’t understand their current predicament; coming out and riding together had been _her_ idea. The fields had remained green even after the recent heatwave, and there was so much space that blurred into woods that it would be a shame not to explore it. “So then why are you holding yourself back so much?”

Madeline smiled, though it didn’t seem as at ease as her normal expressions. “You know the answer to that already.”

“Yes, but it won’t do _you_ any good if you don’t come to terms with it.” Pitch had been trying to adjust how he approached his job over the past few months, and that had been one of the things he learned. It was a balancing act, and he still wasn’t perfect at it, but he knew feeding Madeline answers wasn’t what was best for her.

Madeline opened her mouth, then shut it once more, shaking her head. “Yes, you’re right.” With a sigh, she pulled her hand away from Claudia’s fur, and the horse adjusted, still flicking her tail. “This is…a bit different than when I’m afraid of making a mistake with the kids.” As she spoke, Pitch could feel the way the fear shifted inside of her: the way it grew upon being recognized, though it lost some of its power in the process. He knew she could push past it, but she just needed the time to do so. “I just start thinking about riding, even though I know it won’t be like it used to, and I worry that the next time I fall, it will be worse than before. And if that happens, I’ll be leaving everything I care about behind. Or, at least, I won’t be able to continue doing what I do.”

Telling her that her fears were useless wouldn’t do any good, though. Yes, the chances that she would end up in an accident on the same scale as the one in her teenage years were minimal, but cold logic couldn’t always work against the way emotions slipped around in the human mind, and Pitch had used that capability to his advantage on many occasions.

But in the moment, he was aiming for something else entirely.

“From the way you spoke before, you don’t want that feeling to control you anymore, do you?” Pitch asked, something soft entering his voice that he wasn’t accustomed to feeling. Madeline simply shook her head as an answer. “Then you just need to take one step at a time to get where you want to be. Know that you have my support. I can’t say that you won’t fall, because you might, but I won’t allow something like the last time to happen again.”

The words were out of his mouth before he could even think twice about them, and Madeline’s eyes widened in surprise before a real smile fell onto her face. She laughed a bit, the sound starting to break up the worries inside her, and turned to face Claudia again. “What do you say, old girl? Mind if I make a fool of myself on you again?”

Claudia snorted, as if implying that anyone riding her couldn’t possibly look foolish with her as the mount, and nudged her nose into Madeline’s side. Madeline returned the affection with a few more pats, then pulled herself and up and into the saddle in a movement so natural you wouldn’t have guessed that she had been so afraid a moment before. Pitch could still feel the thread of hesitation in her, but he could also feel that she wasn’t about to let it slow her down.

Fists clenched tight, Madeline urged Claudia on, and the horse took off at a gallop. Pitch shielded his eyes from the sun as he watched them take off down the pasture—and Madeline seemed to recognize that she’d left Pitch behind as she turned Claudia in a corner and headed back towards them. By the time she came back in earshot and the thundering sounds of Claudia’s hoofbeats had died down, Pitch could tell that Madeline was laughing—though another strained sound was mixed in with it.

“I missed this,” Madeline said, faintly choking back tears as she leaned over the saddle, still gripping onto Claudia’s reigns. “I missed this a lot. Dammit, why was I so stupid to quit…?”

“Well, you’ll simply have to make up for lost time.” Pitch sent out a command through his powers. The Nightmare appeared at his side almost instantly, though it took a minute to adjust to the light. Once it recognized Madeline, however, it became docile, knowing full well that Pitch wouldn’t accept any aggressive behavior towards her. With that dynamic established, Pitch pulled himself up onto the Fearling’s back, adjusting to the feeling. “Go on, do as you like. I’ll be able to keep up.”

Madeline looked up still wiping the tears away from her eyes. She directed Claudia to trot closer, allowing Madeline to pat at the Nightmare’s nose. The natural horse didn’t so much as twitch at its unnatural counterpart. At last, her smile came back in full force, and she went so far as to wink at Pitch. “If you think you’ll be able to keep up, then I won’t hold back,” she said, before urging Claudia on with a shout.

The horse took off in a near blur, her golden fur shimmering under the sunlight. On her back was Madeline, in perfect form to make maximum speed, looking every bit at home. Pitch watched the sight for a few moments, taking it in.

_Strength is when you have faith and overcome the challenges in front of you,_ he thought, recalling her words. _Strength is when you pick yourself back up even after everything seems hopeless._ Though Madeline had been the one to teach him that, she still embodied it in a way that he still couldn’t fully emulate.

Tucking his musing away for another time, Pitch urged his own mount forward, and Nightmare and horse alike dashed across the summer’s day together.


End file.
